JAMES   T.  FIELDS 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  AND  PERSONAL 
SKETCHES 


WITH 


UNPUBLISHED    FRAGMENTS    AND    TRIBUTES 
FROM  MEN  AND  WOMEN  OF  LETTERS 


UNIVERSITY) 


BOSTON 
HOUGHTON,    MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 


1882 


Copyright,  1881, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

'?*?*- 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge  : 
Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  &  Co. 


P45 


n'y  a  pour  les  dmes  d'autre  solitude  que  celle  de  Voubli.1 


IN  MEMORY. 

As  a  guest  who  may  not  stay 
Long  and  sad  farewells  to  say 
Glides  with  smiling  face  away, 

Of  the  SAveetness  and  the  zest 
Of  thy  happy  life  possessed 
Thou  hast  left  us  at  thy  best. 

Warm  of  heart  and  clear  of  brain, 
Of  thy  sun-bright  spirit's  wane 
Thou  hast  spared  us  all  the  pain. 

Now  that  thou  hast  gone  away, 
What  is  left  of  one  to  say 
Who  was  open  as  the  day  ? 

What  is  there  to  gloss  or  shun  ? 
Save  with  kindly  voices  none 
Speak  thy  name  beneath  the  sun. 

Safe  thou  art  on  every  side, 
Friendship  nothing  finds  to  hide, 
Love's  demand  is  satisfied. 

Over  manly  strength  and  worth, 
At  thy  desk  of  toil,  or  hearth, 
Played  the  lambent  light  of  mirth,— 

Mirth  that  lit  but  never  burned; 
All  thy  blame  to  pity  turned ; 
Hatred  thou  hadst  never  learned. 

Every  harsh  and  vexing  thing 
At  thy  home-fire  lost  its  sting; 
Where  thou  wast  was  always  spring. 


7^  MEMORY. 

And  thy  perfect  trust  in  good, 
Faith  in  man  and  womanhood, 
Chance  and  change  and  time  withstood. 

Small  respect  for  cant  and  whine, 
Bigot's  zeal  and  hate  malign, 
Had  that  sunny  soul  of  thine. 

But  to  thee  was  duty's  claim 
Sacred,  and  thy  lips  became 
Reverent  with  one  holy  Name. 

Therefore,  on  thy  unknown  way 
Go  in  God's  peace !     We  who  stay 
But  a  little  while  delay. 

Keep  for  us,  O  friend,  where'er 
Thou  art  waiting,  all  that  here 
Made  thy  earthly  presence  dear. 

Something  of  thy  pleasant  past 
On  a  ground  of  wonder  cast, 
In  the  stiller  waters  glassed ! 

Keep  the  human  heart  of  thee  : 
Let  the  mortal  only  be 
Clothed  in  immortality. 

And  when  fall  our  feet  as  fell 

Thine  upon  the  asphodel, 

Let  thy  old  smile  greet  us  well, 

Proving  in  a  world  of  bliss 
What  we  fondly  dream  in  this,  — 
Love  is  one  with  holiness ! 

JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIEK. 


NOTE. 


IT  will  be  observed  that  great  care  has  been 
taken  in  these  pages  to  omit,  so  far  as  possible, 
all  personal  mention  of  living  friends.  Some  of 
those  only  who  have  passed  beyond  this  narrow 
scope  and  vision  have  been  recalled  as  making 
part  of  a  life  not  to  be  altogether  forgotten. 

A  few  poems  and  extracts  from  letters,  where 
friends  may  speak  for  themselves,  have  been  in 
corporated  as  properly  forming  a  part  of  this 
memorial. 


NIVERSITY 


BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 


PERSONAL  SKETCHES. 


PORTSMOUTH,  New  Hampshire's  only  seaport, 
is  one  of  the  few  places  in  America  touched  with 
the  hue  of  decay.  During  the  Revolution,  when 
our  humble  navy  consisted  only  of  seven  ships, 
New  Hampshire  furnished  one  from  the  Ports 
mouth  navy  yard.  But  the  city  reached  "the 
highest  point  of  all"  her  "greatness"  during  the 
latest  five  years  of  the  last  century,  and  a  quaint, 
fleeting  glimpse  of  the  old  home  world  that  so 
called  "  greatness  "  was.  Calm  after  storm,  the 
calm  of  closing  day,  was  already  brooding  over 
the  town  when  the  boy  who  is  the  subject  of  this 
memoir  was  born,  in  1816.  His  father  was  a 
ship-master,  u  much  respected,"  writes  one  of  his 
town's-people,  "  by  all  who  knew  him."  His  early 
death  at  sea  left  his  widow  with  the  care  of  his 
two  little  sons,  and  the  ship-yards  and  wharves, 
attractive  to  every  boy,  became  places  of  danger 
and  distress  in  her  eyes.  The  rapid  Piscataqua, 


2  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

where  the  older  and  more  adventurous  boys  loved 
to  launch  their  boats  and  be  carried  down  to  the 
great  sea,  was  forbidden  to  them.  There  was, 
however,  no  disobedience  to  the  maternal  author 
ity.  James  used  to  say,  as  it  is  quoted  of  Barry 
Cornwall,  "  My  mother  was  simply  the  kindest 
and  tenderest  mother  in  the  world." 

The  loss  one  Sunday  afternoon  of  summer,  in  a 
sudden  squall,  of  a  sailing  boat  containing  a  party 
of  his  school  fellows  and  one  of  their  teachers,  —  a 
company  James  to  his  boyish  sorrow  had  been  for 
bidden  to  join,  —  was  held  up  to  him  long  afterward 
as  a  righteous  judgment  on  Sabbath-breaking  as 
well  as  an  end  to  be  looked  for  when  boys  entered 
sailing  boats.  He  never  forgot  this  incident,  re 
ferring  often  in  later  years  to  the  grief  which  over 
spread  the  whole  school  at  the  loss  of  their  beloved 
teacher  and  comrades,  but  with  a  keen  memory, 
also,  of  the  narrowness  and  folly  which  attempted 
to  instil  the  idea  of  a  God  made  angry  and  re 
vengeful  by  an  afternoon  of  simple  pleasure  upon 
the  summer  sea. 

He  was  brought  up  in  the  straitest  sect  of  the 
Unitarians  of  those  days,  being  carried  twice  and 
frequently  three  times  a  day  to  Dr.  Parker's 
church,  the  front  house-door  being  duly  locked 
as  the  little  family  party  sallied  forth.  While  he 
trudged  along  holding  his  fond  mother's  hand, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  3 

thinking,  doubtless,  of  the  box  of  unread  books 
which  he  had  just  unwillingly  quitted,  he  was 
unconsciously  forming  in  his  own  mind  a  new 
sense  of  what  religion  really  signified  and  the 
beauty  of  the  world.  That  box  of  books  !  He 
never  forgot  what  they  were  to  him  !  A  friend 
and  neighbor  of  his  mother  having  lately  lost  her 
own  only  son,  offered  to  let  James  enjoy  his  books. 
They  were  to  be  borrowed  a  few  at  a  time,  read, 
and  returned  before  others  should  be  taken.  It 
was  not  long  before  he  knew  every  one  the  box 
contained,  and  to  his  latest  years,  could  name  them 
over.  "  I  wonder  if  that  good  woman  knew  all 
she  did  for  me,"  he  said  latterly;  "if  I  could 
find  her  people  I  should  be  so  happy  to  do  some 
thing  for  them  now." 

One  of  the  privileges  and  pleasures  of  his  early 
life  was  connected  with  Dr.  Parker's  church. 
There  was  a  flourishing  Sunday-school,  chiefly,  I 
believe,  under  the  minister's  own  care,  but  James's 
teacher  was  a  man  of  singular  integrity  and 
beauty  of  character.  "  I  think  there  never  was 
a  better  man  than  Mr.  F.,"  he  used  to  say,  "  and 
his  teaching  was  as  simple  and  true  as  the  man 
himself.  We  could  not  help  understanding  it 
or  loving  him.  He  was  a  model  Sunday-school 
teacher."  There  is  a  small  book  of  prayers  still 
in  my  possession  prepared  by  Dr.  Parker  for  this 


4  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

school.  He  treasured  this  little  volume  to  the 
end,  and  it  took  the  place  of  the  prayer-book  with 
us,  one  of  the  last  Sundays  he  passed  on  earth. 

Although  the  boy  was  denied  the  pleasures  of 
boating  and  of  horses,  —  which  were  considered 
equally  dangerous  and  terrible  by  his  careful  par 
ent,  —  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  he  was  a 
stranger  to  boyish  sports  and  exercises.  From  an 
early  age  he  became  a  great  walker  and  was  fond  of 
open-air  games.  There  never  was  a  boy  who  was  a 
greater  favorite  with  his  companions.  His  out-of- 
door  life  with  them,  in  those  quiet  shaded  streets, 
or  in  their  excursions  to  Rye  Beach  and  shorter 
wood-land  rambles,  or  journeys  to  Dover  and 
Greenland,  were  always  delightful  reminiscenses. 
Often  by  the  half  hour  he  would  amuse  others 
as  well  as  himself  recalling  the  companions  of 
those  days  by  the  names  they  each  assumed, 
and  recounting  their  boyish  fun.  Who  can  ever 
forget,  having  once  heard,  the  tales  of  "  Gundy 
Got"  and  "Shindy  Clemmens"  and  others,  whose 
nicknames  I  cannot  now  recall ;  or  the  story  of 
his  first  pocket-knife  named  "Sharper,"  and  the 
way  in  which  the  reputation  of  Sharper  spread 
among  the  boys ;  or  the  Saturday  afternoons  in 
the  famous  garrets  of  those  days  when  they  re 
galed  each  other  on  sweetened  water  until  one 
boy,  having  made  his  beverage  a  week  before- 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  5 

hand  in  order  to  be  on  time,  was  exposed  by  the 
quick  sense  of  James  and  brought  to  confession  ? 
Who  ever  failed  to  be  amused  at  his  own  amuse 
ment  over  these  boyish  follies  ?     His  exuberance 
and  love  of  nature  made  every  step  of  the  long 
road  from  the  south  end  of  Portsmouth  to  Eye 
Beach  like  turning  a  fresh  page  of  an  unread  book, 
and  to  the  end  of  his  life  the  great  book  of  nature 
was  his  chief  curiosity,  his  unchanged  early  love. 
However  tired  other  boys  might  become,  he  was  al 
ways  fresh,  with  a  first-rate  appetite  for  luncheon, 
when  he  arrived  at  the  end  of   his  walk.     The 
memory  of  those  boyish  pleasures  made  the  old 
places   dear   to  him  forever,  and  he  was  always 
ready  for  "  a  day  or  two  in  Portsmouth." 

In  one  of  the  little  addresses   given  at  some 
academy  in   his   later   years,  we   find   him    say 
ing,    "  Remember,  boys,  it  is   not   so   much   the 
books  you  study  as  the  books  you  read  which  will 
be  of  permanent  value  to  you."     In  saying  this  he 
was  only  speaking   out   of   his   own   experience. 
From  the  box  of  books  to  which  I  have  referred, 
it  was  an  easy  step  to  the  Portsmouth  library  (the 
Athenaeum),  still  preserved  in  the  same  pleasant 
old  building  of  the  last  century,  looking  out  upon 
the  public  street.     The  honors  of  the  High  School 
seem    to    have    been    easily  won,    leaving    time 
enough  beside  for  those  hours  in  the  broad  win- 


6  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

dow  seat  of  the  old  library  room,  which  he  loved  to 
point  out  to  me  in  our  visits  to  Portsmouth.  The 
window  was  shaded  by  a  fine  tree  tempering  the 
summer  sunshine,  making  his  chosen  retreat  a 
most  delightful  resort  both  in  summer  and  in  win 
ter.  Before  the  age  of  fourteen,  when  he  came  to 
Boston,  there  were  few  books  in  the  library  which 
he  had  not  mastered.  Everything  possible  to  his 
years,  and  much  more,  he  seems  to  have  read  and 
remembered.  He  used  to  say  with  amusement, 
that  he  chose  to  go  into  a  book-shop  when  he 
came  to  Boston,  because  he  thought  he  could  sit 
behind  the  counter  and  read  all  day ;  but  the  first 
thing  he  was  told  was  that  boys  were  not  allowed 
to  read  in  business  hours. 

His  companions  and  play  time  were  not  mean 
while  forgotten.  Upon  one  of  the  numerous  oc 
casions  of  late  years  for  calling  together  the 
"  Sons  of  Portsmouth,"  he  said  :  "  It  is  good  for 
us  to  be  a  troop  of  happy  boys  once  more.  I  am 
glad  to  see  the  companions  of  my  school-days; 
boys  who  have  knocked  the  chip  off  my  hat,  boys 
who  have  dared  me  out  three  times,  boys  who 
have  met  me  in  those  fierce  encounters  between 
the  Northern  and  Southern  tribes  of  our  native 
town,  and  who  are  my  excellent  friends  now  that 
these  bloodless  but  terrible  Saturday  afternoons 
are  all  over." 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  7 

When  the  boy  of  fourteen  quitted  his  native 
town  "  to  go  into  business/'  he  left  a  happy  mem 
ory  behind  him.  All  the  boys  who  could  go,  or 
who  were  in  any  wise  ready  for  college  or  business, 
left  when  he  did ;  and  he  never  forgot  that  morn 
ing  when  the  little  company  clambered  up  the 
coach-side  full  of  hope  and  excitement  for  an  un 
tried  future.  There  was  some  boyish  grief  for  his 
mother  and  those  who  must  be  left  behind.  On 
the  whole,  however,  it  was  a  very  happy  and  ex 
citing  journey,  the  longest  he  had  ever  taken,  and 
he  arrived  in  Boston  full  of  new  life  for  the  days 
to  come. 

I  have  before  me  now,  carefully  preserved 
through  these  many  years,  the  letter  of  Mr.  Rich 
ard  Sullivan,  telling  James  that  he  had  found 
a  place  for  him  according  to  his  request,  with 
Messrs.  Carter  and  Hendee.  "  Excellent  young 
men  and  much  respected  in  Boston.  If  you  like 
the  trade,  and  are  pleased  with  the  place,  you  can 
come  as  soon  as  your  mother  pleases."  It  was  in 
accordance  with  this  note  that  when  the  school 
term  was  ended  James  came  to  Boston.  His  new 
life  was  full  of  interest  to  him,  in  spite  of  his  not 
being  allowed  to  read  all  day  as  he  had  fancied ; 
but  his  employers  were  extremely  kind  to  him, 
soon  discovering  that  he  could  be  much  better 
employed  than  in  the  usual  routine  imposed  upon 


8  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

boys.  After,  a  very  few  days  he  was  relieved 
from  the  work  of  taking  care  of  the  shop  and 
given  clerk's  work  instead,  and  he  shortly  became 
one  of  the  trusted  members  of  the  establishment. 

Speaking  of  his  employers  in  later  years,  Mr, 
Fields  said :  "  Mr.  Hendee  was  an  indulgent  mas 
ter  and  pleased  to  make  the  boys  in  his  shop 
happy.  According  to  the  fashion  of  those  times 
he  had  a  box  at  the  theatre,  and  always  invited 
one  or  more  of  the  clerks  to  go  every  night.  In 
this  way  I  saw  the  elder  Booth,  Fanny  Kemble 
as  Juliet,  her  father,  and  in  short  all  the  good 
actors  who  came  to  America  at  that  time." 

A  certain  wholesome  pride  of  character  early 
manifested  itself.  He  quickly  learned  all  details 
of  business ;  wholesale  and  retail  prices,  orders 
needing  to  be  filled,  honest  and  dishonest  buy 
ers  and  sellers,  persons  prompt  in  payment  and 
otherwise,  and  with  especial  quickness  at  once  ob 
served  by  his  masters,  he  was  able  to  discover 
what  books  were  to  be  popular.  He  acquired  also 
a  power,  considered  "  very  queer  "  by  the  other 
clerks,  of  seeing  a  person  enter  the  shop  and  pre 
dicting  what  book  was  wanted  before  the  wish 
was  expressed.  For  some  time  he  kept  this  to 
himself,  but  after  a  while,  on  its  being  discovered, 
it  was  one  of  the  interests  for  the  day  among  the 
clerks  to  see  how  many  times  James  would  be 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  9 

right,  and  he  seldom  made  amiss.  He  thought 
no  more  of  reading  behind  the  counter,  that  idea 
was  only  remembered  as  a  boy's  idle  fancy,  but 
every  night  he  would  carry  home  an  armful  of 
books,  and  he  became  acquainted  with  a  goodly 
portion  of  their  contents  before  morning.  In  after 
years  he  used  to  deplore  the  foolish  habit,  as  he 
called  it,  of  doing  without  sleep,  for  his  love  of 
nature  and  open-air  life  caused  him  to  be  up  with 
the  dawn,  that  he  might  have  an  early  walk  and 
taste  the  fresh  air  before  the  world  was  astir.  The 
fullness  of  life  which  never  knows  weariness  ex 
cept  as  the  downward  sweep  of  the  pendulum,  the 
brightness  of  the  sun  of  human  existence,  the  un 
tamed  spirit  of  action  and  desire  were  never  more 
fully  seen  than  in  his  nature.  From  the  first  he 
was  sumcient  not  only  to  take  care  of  himself  but 
others,  and  as  is  universally  the  case  with  such 
natures  there  were  needs  enough  presented  early 
and  always  continued,  to  absorb  a  large  portion 
of  whatever  might  be  his.  "  The  heart  at  leis 
ure  from  itself  to  soothe  and  sympathize "  was 
native  to  him.  The  best  thing  he  gave,  or  had 
to  give,  was  "  that  good  which  is  effused  by  a 
kind  nature,  and  is  not  lost  or  wasted  in  vacancy. 
The  surrounding  natures  must  catch  a  portion  of 
it,  as  of  a  portion  of  the  sun  or  air,  and  diffuse  it 
in  their  turn." 


10  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

In  the  few  pages  of  autobiography  left  by  Barry 
Cornwall,  I  find  the  following  passage  upon  the 
value  and  the  choice  of  reading.  I  quote  it  here 
because  it  is  another  spirit  bearing  testimony  to 
what  was  a  religion  with  Mr.  Fields,  a  code  of 
law  reproduced  by  him  for  others,  in  some  form, 
every  day  of  his  life  :  — 

u  In  the  village  where  I  dwelt  [wrote  Mr.  Proctor] , 
there  was  a  circulating  library.  Its  contents  were  of  a 
very  humble  description.  It  contained  the  novels  and 
romances  of  fifty  years  ago,  a  score  of  old  histories,  and 
a  few  volumes  of  biography  now  forgotten.  The  books 
had  been  bought  at  sales  for  the  value  of  waste  paper. 
Nevertheless  it  was  out  of  this  dusty  collection  of  learn 
ing  that  I  was  enabled  to  select  a  few  books  which 
spurred  me  on  the  great  road  of  thought.  When  we 
encounter  a  new  idea  it  surprises  us,  and  we  begin  to 
doubt  and  examine  it,  and  this  is  thought.  For  it  is  not 
simply  the  admission  of  another  man's  ideas,  for  these 
sometimes  present  themselves  so  that  we  neither  dissent 
nor  sympathize.  They  do  not  spur  the  mind  on  its  road 
at  all.  I  had  already  read  Caesar  and  Virgil,  and  Ovid, 
and  some  parts  of  Theocritus,  and  passages  of  Homer  ; 
but  these  passed  unprofitable  over  my  mind,  like  shadows 
over  the  unreflecting  earth  below.  They  were  read  as 
words  only,  and  left  no  trace  or  image.  But  now  a  more 
effective  agent  was  at  work,  which  moved  my  heart  at 
the  same  time  with  my  other  faculties.  Let  no  one  de 
spise  the  benefits  which  thus  open  the  young  and  tender 
heart.  They  are  the  gates  of  knowledge If  I 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  11 

had  never  become  intimate  with  Le  Sage,  and  Fielding, 
and  Richardson,  with  Sterne,  and  Inchbald,  and  Rad- 
cliffe,  I  should,  perhaps,  have  stopped  at  my  seventeeth 
year  disheartened  on  my  way.  But  they  were  my  en- 
couragers :  they  forced  me  to  travel  onwards  to  the  In 
tellectual  Mountains.  I  have  now  forgotten  all  my 
mathematics  and  arithmetic,  all  my  Greek,  and  almost 
all  my  Latin  ;  but  I  cleave  to  those  who  were  true  nurses 
of  my  boyhood  still." 

It  is  interesting  to  read  this  passage  in  connec 
tion  with  the  following  extracts  from  an  informal 
address  made  by  Mr.  Fields  to  the  young  men  of 
Phillips  Academy,  Exeter,  in  1874.  He  says :  — 

"  FELLOW  STUDENTS,  —  I  count  myself  still  a  scholar, 
a  seeker  after  knowledge  and  the  true  meaning  of  things. 
And  it  is  always  a  great  pleasure  to  me  when  I  stand 
face  to  face  with  a  hundred  or  more  busy  young  gentle 
men  thirty  or  forty  years  younger  than  I  am.  You 
would  scarcely  believe  it  to  look  at  me  now,  but  I  was 
really  once  young  myself  and  studied  Latin.  I  actually 
once  had  a  smooth  cheek  and  dug  away  at  my  Greek 
verbs,  and  spaded  about  among  my  mathematical  roots 
like  yourselves.  And  so,  as  I  have  suffered  in  these 
things  myself,  I  know  how  to  sympathize  with  you.  You 
can't  tell  me  what  it  is  to  wake  up  in  the  morning  with 
a  thundering  great  mathematical  problem  lying  in  wait 
for  you  !  I  know  all  about  it.  .  .  .  Just  see  how  sim 
ple  the  whole  matter  of  acquiring  information  is.  Given 
Brains  (and  we  always  claim  the  privilege  of  knock 
ing  a  man  down,  if  he  disputes  with  us  the  fact  of  this 


12  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

possession),  and  all  we  can  require,  and  must  acquire, 
are  these  three  —  Attention,  Perseverance,  and  Memory. 
These  can  all  be  had  for  the  asking ;  they  can  all  be 
strengthened  if  they  happen  to  be  weak  in  any  special 
case.  You  notice  I  do  not  reckon  in  Morals,  for  I  can 
not  conceive  of  a  real  student,  a  young  man  of  brains  or 
common  sense,  who  loves  learning,  and  means  to  be  a 
first-rater,  by  and  by,  I  cannot  conceive  of  Ids  having 
any  time  or  inclination  for  those  idiotic  immoralities 
which  turn  a  man  into  a  brute.  I  take  it,  that  sort  of  a 
thing  is  not  in  our  line,  and  so  I  do  not  intend  to  insult 
you  by  mixing  up  baser  matters  with  the  things  needful, 
which  we  are  all  striving  for,  namely,  the  Great  Truths 
of  life.  Go  in  for  fun  and  genuine  enjoyment.  It  is  a 
capital  rule  to  play  a  little  every  day  of  our  lives." 

This  was  quite  as  much  as  was  wrise  or  possible 
to  say  to  students  still  under  their  master's  super 
vision,  but  in  his  lecture  on  "  Fiction  "  he  reiter 
ates  his  faith  in  the  value  of  literature  of  the 
imagination  in  forming  the  young  mind. 

James  Russell  Lowell  has  lately  given  expres 
sion  to  this  same  truth,  in  his  speech  at  the  Lit 
erary  Fund  Dinner  in  London.  "  Science,"  Mr. 
Lowell  says,  "  can  never  extinguish  imagination, 
nor  that  thirst  which  human  nature  feels  for  some 
thing  more  piercing  than  facts  are  apt  to  be.  I 
think  that  as  long  as  the  human  race  lasts  wonder 
and  delight  in  natural  things,  which,  perhaps,  are 
not  useful,  and  which  are  certainly  not  scientific, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  13 

will  be  born  into  the  world  with  every  child."    In 
a  sphere  where  the  gospel  of  work  is  rigidly  en 
forced  the  rare  individual  natures  who  give  ex 
pansion  as  well  as  expression  to  something  deeper 
and  more  enduring  within  us  cannot  be  to°o  highly 
prized.      One  of  this  beloved  company  has  said, 
:( If  life  itself  were  not  a  pleasure  the  utility  even 
of  its  necessaries  might  very  well  be  questioned." 
In  rehearsing  the  story  of  a  life  the  fact  of  pri 
mal  importance  is  the  individual.     Be  careful  to 
preserve  the  corners,  Goethe  has  somewhere  said, 
lest  if  we  are  too  well  rounded  off  there  will  be 
no  personal  recognition  in  the  hereafter.     There 
fore  it  is  a  happiness  even  to  recall  the  limitations 
of  certain  natures.     Defining  what  they  are  not, 
however,  cannot  define  what  they  are.     That  is' 
quite  a  different  labor.     To  define  what  they  are 
not  would  only  be  to  lose  ourselves  in  God's  il 
limitable  plan. 

"  A  man   may  earn    the   gratitude   of   the  world   by 
speaking,  writing,  or  acting  admirably  [writes  Coventry 
Patmore],  but  its  most  delighted  and  enduring  thanks 
are  given  to  individuality  of  character,  in  other  words 
to  a  living  addition  to  the  visible  scope  and  variety  of 
humanity.     This  individuality,  whether  in  action  or  in 
art,  is  always  more  or  less,   and   often  wholly,  uncon 
scious.     Consciousness  is  the  destruction  of  individual- 
ity,  ...  but  all  true  character  is  individual,  and  incapa- 


14  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

ble  of  being  acquired  by  any  amount  of  effort,  or  quite 
abolished  by  any  amount  of  neglect.  It  is  so  rare  and 
delicate  a  quality  that  to  be  able  to  recognize  it  at  first 
hand  in  a  poem  or  other  work  of  art  is  in  itself  a  sort 
of  originality,  the  gift,  or  rather  the  grace  of  the  few 
whose  verdict  is  sure  to  prevail  after  a  time,  commonly 
a  long  time." 

In  this  age  of  much  scientific  study  and  noble 
advance,  the  character  of  which  we  write  was 
marked  by  quiet  progress  in  its  own  direction. 
The  paths  of  science  were  reverently  left  to  other 
feet  as  quite  outside  his  own  province.  By  the 
modest  and  almost  unconscious  acceptance  of  him 
self  he  was  laid  open  to  much  misapprehension 
from  the  learned  and  dogmatic,  but  the  recogni 
tion  universally  and  instinctively  accorded  to  him 
wherever  simple  human  intercourse  was  possible, 
made  his  life  rich.  He  was  incapable  of  envy, 
and  had  no  ambitions  beyond  doing  his  best  in  his 
own  direction.  He  was  continually  surprised,  and 
rejoiced  afresh  by  the  appreciation  which  came  to 
him. 

One  of  Mr.  Fields's  earliest  interests,  outside  his 
business,  was  connected  with  the  Mercantile  Li 
brary  Association.  Of  this  portion  of  his  life, 
Mr.  Whipple  has  lately  written  in  the  "  Atlantic 
Monthly."  These  few  extracts  from  his  tender 
and  able  tribute  shall  stand  here  to  speak  for 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.        15 

these  years,  more   perfectly  than  any  words  of 
mine  could  do  :  — 

44  My  acquaintance  with  Fields  began  at  the  Boston 
Mercantile  Library  Association  when  we  were  boys  of 
eighteen  or  nineteen.  It  happened  that  both  of  us  were 
inilamed  by  a  passionate  love  of  literature  and  by  a  cor 
dial  admiration  of  men  of  letters ;  that  we  had  read  — 
of  course  superficially  —  most  of  the  leading  poets  and 
prose  writers  of  Great  Britain,  and  had  a  tolerably  cor 
rect  idea  of  their  chronological  succession  ;  that  both  of 
us  could  write  verse  in  various  measures,  and  each  then 
thought  that  the  ten-syllabled  couplet  of  Dryden  and 
Pope  was  the  perfection  of  poetic  form  ;  and  that  Fields 
had  made  his  reputation  a  few  days  before  our  acquaint 
ance  began  as  the  first  anniversary  poet  of  the  associa 
tion.  Before  a  large  audience  he  had  read  an  original 
poem  which  commanded  general  applause. 

"  It  was  my  fortune,  or  misfortune,  to  follow  Fields  in 
his  brilliantly  successful  anniversary  poem.  Of  what  I 
wrote  I  can  hardly  remember  a  line.  The  whole  thing 
has  gone  out  of  my  memory  as  thoroughly  as  it  has  gone 
out  of  the  memory  of  the  public.  But  what  I  do  remem 
ber  is  this,  that  Fields  was  anxious  that  I  should  suc 
ceed.  Being  under  the  age  when  a  free  American  can 
vote,  I  naturally  thought  my  couplets  were  quite  bright. 
Fields  did  all  he  could  to  confirm  me  in  my  amiable  il 
lusion.  He  suggested  new  4  points  ; '  worked  with  me  as 
though  he  desired  that  my  performance  should  eclipse 
his  own  ;  and  was  the  foremost  among  the  lads  who, 
after  the  agony  of  delivery  was  over,  were  pleased  to 


16  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

congratulate  me  on  what  was  called  my  c  success.'  This 
disinterestedness  made  me  at  once  a  warm  friend  of 
Fields. 

"  One  of  the  most  notable  facts  in  the  lives  of  clerks 
with  literary  tastes  and  moderate  salaries  is  the  mysteri 
ous  way  in  which  they  contrive  to  collect  books.  Among 
the  members  of  the  Mercantile  Library  Association, 
Thomas  R.  Gould  (now  known  as  one  of  the  most  emi 
nent  of  American  sculptors),  Fields,  and  myself  had 
what  we  called  ;  libraries  '  before  we  were  twenty-one. 
Gould  was  a  clerk  in  a  dry-goods  jobbing  house,  Fields 
in  a  book-store,  I  in  a  broker's  office.  Fields's  collec 
tion  much  exceeded  Gould's  and  mine,  for  he  had  in  his 
room  two  or  three  hundred  volumes,  —  the  nucleus  of  a 
library  which  eventually  became  one  of  the  choicest  pri 
vate  collections  of  books,  manuscripts,  and  autographs 
in  the  city.  The  puzzle  of  the  thing  was  that  we  could 
not  decide  how  we  had  come  into  the  possession  of  such 
treasures.  We  had  begun  to  collect  before  we  were  in 
our  teens,  and  as  we  had  neither  stolen  nor  begged  we 
concluded  that  our  '  libraries '  represented  our  sacrifices. 
In  the  evening,  after  the  day's  hard  work  was  over, 
Gould  and  I  drifted  by  instinct  to  Fields's  boarding- 
house;  and  what  glorious  hilarity  we  always  found  in 
his  room !  He  was  never  dull,  never  morose,  never  de 
sponding.  Full  of  cheer  himself,  he  radiated  cheer  into 
us.  On  one  occasion  Gould  and  I  introduced  the  ques 
tion  of  our  salaries,  and  somewhat  gloomily  resented  the 
fact  that  there  was  no  prospect  of  their  being  increased. 
4  Look  here,  Tom  and  Ned,'  Fields  broke  out,  '  I  have 
none  of  your  fears  in  this  matter.  I  was  originally  des- 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  17 

tined  for  Jupiter,  but  the  earth  caught  hold  of  me,  and 
hauled  me  in.  Don't  you  see,  by  thus  impertinently  in 
terfering,  the  earth  is  bound  to  give  me  a  good  living  ?  * 
This  joyousness  of  mood  lasted  through  his  life. 

"  The  conversation  of  Fields  had,  even  in  his  boyhood, 
the  two  charms  of  friendliness  and  inventiveness.  The 
audacities  of  his  humor  spared  neither  solemn  respecta 
bilities  nor  accredited  reputations  ;  yet  in  his  intercourse 
with  his  friends  his  wildest  freaks  of  satire  never  inflicted 
a  wound.  His  sensitive  regard  for  the  feelings  of  those 
with  whom  he  mingled  was  a  marvel  of  that  tact  which 
is  the  offspring  of  good  nature  as  well  as  of  good  sense. 
When  he  raised  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  one  of  his 
companions,  the  laugh  was  always  heartily  enjoyed  and 
participated  in  by  the  object  of  his  mirth;  for,  indulg 
ing  to  the  top  of  his  bent  in  every  variety  of  witty  mis 
chief,  he  had  not  in  his  disposition  the  least  alloy  of  witty 
malice.  When  seemingly  delivered  over  to  the  most  un 
restrained  ecstasies  of  his  jubilant  moods,  when  his  ar 
rows  flew  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  hitting  this  person 
and  that  on  the  exact  weak  point  where  their  minds  or 
characters  were  open  to  good-natured  ridicule,  there  never 
was  the  least  atom  of  poison  on  the  shining  edge  of  his 
shafts. 

u  Those  who  knew  Fields  in  his  youth  as  well  as  in  his 
manhood  must  have  noted  that  he  was  two  widely  differ 
ent  persons,  according  as  he  talked  with  intimate  friends 
or  chance  acquaintances.  He  never  was  his  real  self  ex 
cept  in  the  company  of  the  former,  for  with  them  he 
had  to  put  no  rein  on  his  impulsive  feeling  or  his  quick 
intelligence  ;  but  the  latter  utterly  failed  to  comprehend 


18  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

him  as  he  was  in  himself.  To  them,  indeed,  he  appeared 
as  an  eminently  polite  person,  irreproachably  dressed, 
irreproachably  decorous,  guarded  in  his  conversation, 
pleasing  in  his  manners,  relying  for  his  modest  position 
in  literature  on  what  he  had  privately  printed  for  dis 
tribution  among  his  friends,  and  never  presuming  to  be 
anything  more  than  a  publisher,  who  not  only  sympa 
thized  with  literary  genius,  but  had  a  singularly  swift 
power  to  discern  it.  To  us  who  were  in  his  confidence 
he  was  ever  the  maddest  of  mad  wits,  of  inexhaustible 
inventiveness  and  unconventional  audacity.  .  .  . 

"  I  cannot  help  lingering  on  these  early  days  of  our 
friendship,  for  his  forth-rushing  ebulliency  of  nature  was 
never  more  delightful  than  at  that  period,  though  his 
capacity  of  self-command  was  even  then  as  remarkable  as 
his  spontaneity. 

"  As  years  rolled  on,  and  Fields  became  a  partner  in 
the  house  which  he  had  served  as  a  clerk,  the  proofs  mul 
tiplied  that  he  was,  among  American  publishers,  one  of 
the  most  sagacious  judges  of  the  intrinsic  and  money 
value  of  works  of  literature.  .  .  . 

"  As  I  happened  to  witness  the  gradual  growth  of  what 
became  one  of  the  leading  publishing  houses  of  the  coun 
try,  and  as  I  know  that  its  germinating  root  was  in  the 
brain  of  Fields,  I  may  be  able  to  give  some  testimony  as 
to  its  rise  and  progress.  Fields  from  the  start  had  de 
liberately  formed  in  his  mind  an  ideal  of  a  publisher  who 
might  profit  by  men  of  letters,  and  at  the  same  time 
make  men  of  letters  profit  by  him.  He  thoroughly  un 
derstood  both  the  business  and  literary  side  of  his  occu 
pation.  Some  of  the  first  publications  of  the  house  be- 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  19 

longed  to  a  light  order  of  literature,  but  they  still  had 
in  them  that  indefinable  something  which  distinguishes 
the  work  of  literary  artists  from  the  work  of  literary 
artisans. 

"  One  thing  always  puzzled  me  in  reference  to  Fields, 
and  that  was  how  he  contrived  to  get  time  to  attend  to 
his  own  affairs.  His  place  of  business  always  seemed 
thronged  with  visitors.  Some  dropped  in  to  have  a  chat 
with  him,  and  they  dropped  in  every  day  ;  others  had 
letters  of  introduction,  and  were  to  be  received  with  par 
ticular  attention  ;  others  were  merciless  bores,  who  se 
verely  tested  his  patience  and  good-nature.  On  some 
forenoons  he  could  hardly  have  had  half  an  hour  to  him 
self.  Then  he  was  continually  doing  kindly  acts  which 
required  the  expenditure  of  a  good  deal  of  time.  In 
spite  of  all  these  distractions,  he  was  a  singularly  orderly 
and  methodical  business  man.  He  made  up  for  the  hours 
he  lost,  or  was  robbed  of,  by  accustoming  himself  to 
think  swiftly  and  decide  quickly  on  business  matters. 
....  I  have  done  small  justice  to  my  own  conception 
of  the  brilliancy  of  his  wit,  the  alertness  of  his  intelli 
gence,  the  variety  of  his  information,  and  the  kindness 
of  his  heart.  I  shall  have  to  take  some  other  opportu 
nity  to  speak  of  his  numerous  writings,  and  of  his  career 
as  a  lecturer  on  literature." 

Neither  public  interests  nor  private  friendships 
are  sufficient  to  round  the  full  life  of  the  natural 
man.  The  instinct  of  home  is  as  deep  in  our  na 
tures  as  the  instinct  of  common  joy.  During  the 
period  of  which  Mr.  Whipple  has  spoken,  Mr. 


20  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Fields  became  engaged  to  a  beautiful  girl,  Mary 
Willard,  eldest  daughter  of  Mary  (Adams)  and 
Simon  Willard.  She  seemed  in  every  way  suited 
to  make  him  happy,  but  disease  had  laid  its  hand 
upon  her,  and  a  few  months  after  the  engagement 
she  faded  out  of  life.  This  was  his  first  sorrow. 
He  felt  incapacitated  for  the  old  routine  of  life 
for  the  time,  and  as  soon  as  possible  he  sailed  for 
Europe.  Sea-sickness,  lasting  forty  days,  was  a 
novel  experience,  and  one  not  to  be  repeated. 
There  were  steamers  even  in  those  days,  and  he 
returned  in  one  after  a  visit  of  a  few  months,  but 
his  fortune  in  the  steamer  was  hardly  better  than 
in  the  sailing  vessel.  His  own  diary  shall  serve 
to  give  us  particulars  of  this  first  rapid  tour  in 
Europe.  During  the  voyage  he  writes :  — 

"  Here  my  observation  ceases  for  many  days.  That 
dreadful  destroyer  of  all  personal  comfort  at  sea  got  hold 
upon  me  and  kept  me  chained  to  my  berth.  At  inter 
vals  I  was  able  to  enjoy  the  fine  sights  about  me :  the 
rising  and  setting  sun,  the  shifting  clouds,  the  rolling 
swarms  of  fish,  from  the  huge  black-fish  to  the  little 
nautilus.  Life  at  sea  is  so  new  and  strange  to  my  expe 
rience  I  have  something  to  attract  my  attention  every 
hour  of  the  day,  and  only  want  bodily  strength  to  note 
down  what  I  witness  of  interest.  My  nights  are  passed 

mostly  in  uneasy  snatches  of   sleep.      C reads  to 

me  every  night  till  ten  or  eleven,  and  I  manage  after 
that  to  toil  through  the  hours." 


'  AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  21 

The  days  and  nights  were  chiefly  a  repetition  of 
the  above,  save  when  he  was  able  to  pursue  his 
studies  of  the  French  language  and  French  and 
English  history.  One  day  we  find  him  reading 
Lockhart's  Scott.  "I  should  like  it  better  if  I  had 
not  read  it  so  often/'  he  writes. 

This  hurried  diary  gives  an  interesting  picture 
of  how  much  may  be  crowded  into  a  single  day, 
and  digested,  too,  by  a  young  and  enthusiastic 
traveler.  Days  grow  to  be  as  long  as  weeks. 
Such  travelers  may  truly  say,  — 

"  I  moments  live  who  lived  but  years." 

"July  9,  1847.  This  morning  we  got  into  Havre 
with  the  ship  at  about  eight  o'clock.  I  jumped  ashore 

as  soon  as  possible  with  the   Captain  and  M ,  and 

was  enchanted  at  every  step  of  the  way.  Everything 
was  so  new,  and  land  so  glorious  once  again.  After 
breakfast  I  went  about  with  a  young  French  gentleman 
who  was  kindly  introduced  to  me  in  the  counting-house 
of  MM.  Lemaitre  and  Cie.  We  went  first,  at  my 
request,  to  the  house  in  which  St.  Pierre,  author  of 
4  Paul  and  Virginia,'  was  born,  now  occupied  by  a  re 
finer  of  sugar.1  Then  to  the  end  of  the  superb  '  pier 
head  '  and  to  the  Round  Tower  of  Francis  the  First. 
The  day  is  a  delightful  one,  and  I  never  saw  human 
faces  so  happy  before  in  the  streets.  Dined  at  two 

1  Mr.  Fields  lias  recorded  the  suggestions  of  this  visit  in  his  paper 
upon  "  The  Author  of  Paul  and  Virginia,"  included  in  his  volume 
of  Sketches  called  Underbrush. 


22  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

p.  M.,  and  left  for  Rouen  in  the  three  P.  M.  train."  [Then 
follows  a  list  of  towers,  castles,  cathedrals,  towns,  and 
villages,  en  route.] 

"  My  companions  were  a  young  Scotchman  and  a 
young  Englishman,  intelligent  and  most  communicative, 
one  inviting  me  to  visit  Edinburgh,  and  the  other  Lon 
don.  .  .  .  After  dining  [We  may  observe  it  was  for  the 
second  time  that  day,  but  he  had  divided  the  cherry  and 
made  two  of  it]  I  sallied  out  and  walked  among  the 
crowds,  the  women  in  high  Norman  caps,  and  made  my 
way  to  the  great  Cathedral  famous  over  Europe.  It  was 
just  vesper  time,  and  the  effect  of  the  nuns  singing  be 
hind  the  high  altar  was  an  utterance  of  music  so  thrill 
ing  it  went  to  my  heart.  The  light  came  dimly  down 
the  aisles,  and  I  lingered  till  the  priests  walked  by  me 
to  their  cloisters.  .  .  .  The  Seine  runs  directly  by  my 
windows ;  and  as  I  write  this  a  bugle  from  a  descend 
ing  steamboat  steals  along  the  water  like  an  echo.  I 
am  tired,  but  could  not  help  recording,  before  I  slept,  my 
first  day  in  Europe.  .  .  . 

"July  10.  My  second  day  in  Europe.  Rose  at  five 
and  went  to  the  great  Cathedral  to  attend  matins." 
[Here  follows  a  description  of  churches,  monuments,  and 
places  seen  before  half  past  nine,  when  he  returns  for 
coffee  to  the  hotel,  but  sallying  forth  again  directly  he 
visits  and  enjoys  the  market,  Palais  de  Justice,  Museum, 
where  he  mentions  particularly  the  autographs  of  Rich 
ard  Coeur  de  Lion  and  William  the  Conqueror.  He 
says  of  two  old  houses  which  he  visits  :]  "  They  look 
like  carved  objects  that  have  escaped  some  great  mu 
seum.  ...  I  have  run  into  the  flower-market  twenty 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  23 

times  to-day  and  gaped  with  delight  at  the  curious  old 
damsels  who  offer  their  bouquets  in  unknown  tongues. 
Notwithstanding  I  have  got  lost  in  a  dozen  streets,  I 
manage  to  come  out  right  at  last,  everybody  is  so  com 
plaisant  and  so  ready  to  go  any  distance  with  you  to  set 
you  going  in  the  true  direction  again.  .  .  .  The  old  con 
cert  gardens  near  the  St.  Ouen  Church  are  well  worth 
the  half  hour  occupied  in  looking  at  them. 

"  Left  Rouen  at  four  P.  M.  for  Paris,  by  the  railroad, 
which  runs  through  a  highly  interesting  country  all  the 
way."  [He  gives  a  detailed  account  of  every  village,  and 
of  glimpses  of  the  Seine,  its  bridges,  of  chateaux,  ave 
nues  of  trees,  scenes  of  historical  interest,  etc.,  until  he 
sees  Paris  "  towering  mistily  into  the  skies."] 

"  My  heart  beat  rapidly  as  I  made  out  in  the  evening 
light,  indistinctly,  familiar  objects  from  the  memory  of 
pictures  I  have  seen." 

And  so  ended  the  second  day  in  Europe. 

v     L' A  K 

The  third  day  Jbeing  jjunday,  the  be'st  day  of  4*~£-  // 
all,  so  it  was  crowded  the  fullest.  Again  we  read, 
"  Rose  at  five,  dressed,  and  sallied  forth,"  —  and 
after  a  long  list  of  things  seen  and  done,  he 
writes,  "  To  bed  at  one."  Speaking  of  his  visit  to 
the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  he  says,  u  I  saw  stumps 
of  men  to-day,  the  major  part  of  whose  bodies 
had  been  left  scattered  on  battle-fields  before  I 
was  born."  "  Home  to  bed  at  twelve,"  and  "  rose 
at  half  past  four,"  or,  the  latest  hour  recorded, 
"  rose  at  seven," —  such  were  his  habits  as  a  trav 
eler,  the  same  as  when  at  home. 


24  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Mr.  Goodrich  (Peter  Parley),  our  consul,  was  at 
this  time  living  in  Paris  with  his  family,  and  our 
traveler  seems  to  have  found  a  warm  welcome  at 
his  house.  Mr.  George  Simmer  was  also  in  Paris, 
and  Mr.  Henry  Baird  of  Philadelphia.  All  three 
gentlemen  were  his  intimates,  and  he  owed  much 
of  his  pleasure  in  Paris  to  their  companionship. 
From  the  Rhine  he  writes  of  himself  as  still  inde 
fatigable  :  "  Went  to  bed  at  ten,  got  up  and  saw 
the  Drachenfels  by  moonlight ;  saw  the  sun  rise  ; 
walked  out  at  five  around  the  town.  ...  In  the 
cars  we  had  opportunity  of  observing  how  a  kind 
deed  or  a  gentle  word  atones  for  an  ugly  face." 

His  first  day  in  London  was,  of  course,  full  of 
delight  to  him. 

"  Dined  at  a  chop-house.  Loitered  in  book-shops. 
Went  to  Bath  Court  (Dr.  Johnson's  lodgings),  Covent 
Garden,  The  Cock  and  Magpie  of  Jack  Sheppard  mem 
ory,  and  to  Wolsey's  house,  now  a  barber's  shop.  .  .  . 
Took  a  cab  and  drove  to  the  booksellers',  Moxon's, 
Bonn's,  Pickering's,  and  Murray's,  whose  rooms  are  in 
teresting  as  connected  with  English  literature.  Mr. 
Murray's  nephew  showed  us  about  the  apartment,  where 
are  original  portraits  of  Byron,  Scott,  Campbell,  Moore, 
Irving,  and  other  eminent  men." 

It  was  during  this  first  visit  to  London  that 
Mr.  Fields  enjoyed  that  exceptional  evening  at 
the  Italian  Opera  (Her  Majesty's  Theatre),  when 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.        25 

Jenny  Lind,  Lablache,  Gardoni,  Coletti,  Corelli, 
and  others  made  their  appearance.  Who  of  his 
friends  cannot  remember  his  humorous  description 
of  that  night,  the  intense  excitement,  the  won 
derful  fulfilment  of  excited  expectation  ?  "  After 
the  opera  we  had  e  Le  Jugement  de  Paris.'  Tag- 
lioni  and  Cerito  were  the  principal  dancers.  We 
went  home  at  half-past  twelve,  entirely  satisfied 
that  the  fame  of  these  singers  and  dancers  had 
not  been  overstated  or  overrated.  Coming  along 
home  we  were  accosted  by  a  little  child  in  the 
street,  who  swept  the  sidewalks,  begging  for  pen 
nies,  —  a  contrast  to  the  splendid  scene  we  had 
just  left  by  no  means  pleasant."  We  find  notes 
at  this  period  also  of  breakfasts,  dinners,  and 
visits  to  Mr.  John  Kenyon,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howitt, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Procter  (Barry  Cornwall),  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall,  all  of  whom  became  his  life 
long  friends. 

"  Sunday,  went  to  hear  W.  J.  Fox  preach.  Fox  gave 
out  a  hymn,  read  a  passage  from  the  Bible,  from  Words 
worth,  Southey's  translation  of  Michael  Angelo,  Milton, 
and  Herder.  No  text,  but  a  consideration  of  the  litera 
ture  of  the  day  :  Leigh  Hunt,  Wordsworth,  the  *  Econo 
mist  '  newspaper,  etc.  Told  anecdote  of  the  Society  for 
the  Suppression  of  Mendicity.  *  What  shall  be  done 
with  the  poets  ? '  Fine  singing  at  Finsbury  Chapel,  and 
an  original  preacher Mr.  Kenyon  recalled  at  Mr. 


20  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Procter's  dinner-table  Rogers's  description  of  dining  with 
Sheridan,  Talleyrand,  and  C.  G.  Fox.  <  Barry  '  himself 
told  me  more  privately  of  his  young  days  at  school  with 
Byron  and  Sir  Robert  Peel.  He  also  spoke  of  his  love 
of  4  Hyperion,'  by  H.  W.  L.  'You  don't  drink,  Fields/ 
he  said  to  me.  '  Ah  !  he  is  languishing  for  his  Susque- 
hanna ! '  .  .  . 

"  Left  London  for  Brompton  and  '  The  Rosary/  the 
beautiful  cottage  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall.  Mrs. 
Hall's  library  is  a  most  tastefully  decorated  room.  A 
fine  parrot,  whom  Mrs.  H.  calls  her  secretary,  added  by 
his  presence  to  the  beauty  of  the  apartment." 

He  describes  an  interesting  company  of  persons 
assembled  at  Mrs.  Hall's,  and  returned  to  London 
delighted  with  his  visit. 

"  Walked  through  the  college  grounds  at  Eton,  and 
on  towards  Stoke  Pogis."  [Recalling,  doubtless,  as  he 
went,  those  exquisite  lines  of  Gray,  "Ye  distant  spires,  ye 
antique  towers,"  which  were  favorites  of  his  ;  indeed,  the 
last  words  he  heard  on  earth  were  from  Mr.  Matthew 
Arnold's  beautiful  sketch  of  Gray's  life,  published  in 
Ward's  "  English  Poets."]  "  Just  as  twilight  came  on 
we  rambled  into  Gray's  churchyard,  and  read  the  tablet 
nigh  his  tomb.  The  hour  was  happily  chosen,  and  the 
whole  scene  most  touchingly  beautiful."  [Copied  from 
the  tombstone  in  Gray's  churchyard  :]  "In  the  same 
pious  confidence,  beside  her  buried  sister,  here  sleep  the 
remains  of  Dorothy  Gray,  widow,  the  careful  tender 
mother  of  many  children,  one  of  whom  alone  had  the 
misfortune  to  survive  her." 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.        27 

A  few  days  later  he  writes  :  — 

"  In  company  with  Leslie,  the  painter,  visited  Mr. 
Rogers's  house,  in  St.  James  Place.  He  was  not  in  ; 
saw  his  Rubens,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Rembrandt,  and 
all  this  beautiful  collection  by  the  most  tasteful  poet  of 
his  time.  .  .  . 

"  Tea  with  William  and  Mary  Howitt  at  Clapton, 
who  gave  me  a  hearty  reception.  Freilegrath  came  in 
and  stayed  daring  our  visit,  talking  of  Longfellow  and 
Bryant  with  enthusiastic  admiration.  .  .  . 

"  To-day  Moxon  showed  me  the  remnant  of  Elia's 
library,  and  gave  me  a  copy  of  the  4  Rape  of  the  Lock ' 
that  once  belonged  to  Charles  Lamb,  and  contained  some 
manuscript  pages  in  his  handwriting.  .  .  . 

"August  26.  Had  a  delightful  interview  with  the 
author  of  '  Our  Village.'  .  .  . 

"  Nine  A.  M.  Rose  at  five,  and  rambled  round  the  old 
city  of  Bristol ;  went  to  Radcliff  church,  and  reconnoi- 
tered  the  old  place  thoroughly,  thinking  of  Chatterton 
and  his  wretched  life  and  death." 

Of  course  his  visit  to  Stratford  is  most  enthusi 
astically  described,  but  there  are  no  special  points 
to  mention  here.  Mr.  Fields's  friends  will  never 
fail  to  recall  his  amusing  story  of  one  of  his  stage 
companions  thither,  who  asked  why  he  was  so 
eager  to  stop  at  Stratford.  "  Because  Shakespeare 
happened  to  live  here,"  was  the  reply.  "  Shake 
speare,"  said  his  interlocutor,  "  he  'd  never  been 
thought  anything  of  if  he  had  n't  written  them 


28  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

plays!  "  Unhappily  these  little  trifles  do  not  bear 
transcription.  If  occasionally  they  slip,  as  it  were, 
from  the  point  of  the  pen,  because  the  mind  so 
indissolubly  connects  them  with  certain  places, 
persons,  or  things,  an  apology  should  go  with 
them,  since  the  voice  and  manner  which  gave 
them  grace  are  vanished. 

"A  kind  note  from  Colonel  Wild  man  inviting  us  to 
Newstead  Abbey.  Saw  an  old  lady  at  the  Hut  who 
had  seen  Byron  and  his  mother  alight  at  the  '  old  place ' 
which  formerly  occupied  the  ground,  where  the  present 
inn  stands.  Spent  many  hours  at  the  Abbey,  where  we 
saw  the  chapel,  tomb  over  the  dog,  the  drinking  cup 
(skull),  tree  with  Byron's  name  beside  his  sister's.  Also 
from  an  eminence  in  the  garden  saw  Annesley  Hall, 
(Mary  Chaworth's  residence),  old  mill  at  the  lake  side, 
boat,  Byron's  canoe  in  the  hall ;  rode  over  to  Hucknall 
Church  where  Byron  lies  buried,  —  sexton  just  locking 
the  doors,  —  walked  into  the  Byron  pew  ;  saw  the  spot 
where  Byron  lies  ;  tablet  erected  by  his  sister.  .  .  .  Ar 
rived  at  Edinburgh  at  half-past  five  in  the  morning,  the 
castle  looming  proudly  up  in  the  sunlight.  After  rattling 
over  the  pavements  many  a  weary  mile,  the  hotels  being 
all  full,  we  were  set  down  at  31  St.  Andrew's  Square, 
and  were  received  by  the  landlady  at  the  top  of  the 
stairs  in  her  night-cap,  nothing  abashed  at  our  presence. 

Poor  old  Mrs.  H ,  can  I  ever  forget  her  welcome,  and 

her  offer  of  all  sorts  of  spirituous  liquors  !  .  .  .  Went  to 
Blackwood's.  Saw  Wilson's  portrait  in  his  back  room  ; 
strolled  about  this  glorious  old  city.  .  .  .  Went  into  old 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  29 

churches,  and  I  made  bold  to  ascend  a  Dissenter's  pulpit 
and  think  of  John  Knox.  .  .  . 

"  Rode  down  to  Gallashiels  on  top  of  the  coach 
beside  a  young  Scotch  lady  who  knew  every  inch  of  the 
ground ;  had  seen  Scott  when  a  child,  and  knew  Lock- 
hart.  She  pointed  out  all  the  noted  hills  and  castles, 
and  I  was  sorry  when  she  bade  us  good-by  at  the  door 
of  the  little  inn  by  the  roadside  in  Gallashiels.  At  G. 
we  took  what  is  called  a  dog-cart,  a  queer  vehicle  enough 
but  quite  comfortable,  and  drove  down  to  Abbotsford ; 
we  walked  along  in  sight  of  Scott's  proud  growth  of 
young  trees  planted  by  himself  with  so  much  pleasure, 
and  pretty  soon  entered  the  gateway  to  his  dwelling. 
There  it  stood  on  the  green  and  beautiful  slope,  so  quiet 
and  still  that  it  seemed  the  tomb  of  greatness  departed. 
Not  a  sound  disturbed  the  solitude.  .  .  .  We  walked 
down  the  avenue  to  the  hall  door  and  rang  the  bell  very 
softly.  The  housekeeper  bade  us  enter  the  apartment 
first  shown,  where  armor  hung  about  the  walls  and 
everything  breathed  of  war  and  border  minstrelsy. 

"  I  sat  in  Scott's  library  chair,  walked  about  among  his 
books,  examined  his  pictures,  looked  upon  his  hat  and 
cane  and  the  last  coat  he  ever  wore.  After  spending  all 
the  time  we  could  spare  in  the  house  we  went  into  the 
grounds  and  sat  down  by  the  Tweed  side.  A  chamber 
window  was  open  and  we  imagined  that  room  the  one  in 
which  Scott  died.  Lockhart  describes  the  scene  and  no 
one  can  forget  it.  ...  As  we  sat  in  the  evening  in  the 
little  parlor  at  the  4  King's  Arms,'  Melrose,  we  heard 
the  voice  of  a  woman  singing  one  of  Burns's  songs  in 
another  room.  We  rang  the  bell  and  the  music  ceased. 


30  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

It  was  the  landlady's  daughter  who  had  been  singing, 
and  who  came  to  spread  the  table  for  our  simple  supper. 
We  read  till  midnight,  and  then  as  the  moon  had  risen 
sallied  out  into  the  quiet  village.  There  stood  the  old 
Abbey  waiting  for  us.  We  rambled  about  in  the  moon 
light  and  climbed  into  the  broken  windows.  ...  It  was 
a  great  night,  that  at  Melrose.  To  bed  but  not  to  sleep. 
"  Up  at  five,  a  dull,  misty  morning,  and  set  off  in  a 
drosky  for  Dryburgh  Abbey,  where  Scott  lies  buried. 
As  we  went  on  the  sun  came  out  and  the  whole  scene  was 
full  of  beauty.  We  passed  the  Eildon  Hills,  Chiefswood, 
Ravenswood,  and  Wallace's  Monument.  Crossed  the 
Tweed  in  a  small  boat  and  leaped  ashore  just  on  the 
rim  of  a  waving  forest  filled  with  birds.  Walked  on  in 
silence  through  rows  of  superb  trees  till  we  reached  a 
low  cottage,  where  reside  the  family  who  show  Dry- 
burgh  and  its  grounds.  The  Tweed  was  rippling  by  us 
as  we  stood  around  the  grave  of  Scott,  and  a  robin  from 
a  neighboring  tree  kept  up  his  morning  melody  undis 
turbed.  We  picked  some  pebbles  out  of  the  river  to 
carry  with  us,  and  left  a  spot  no  change  can  ever  wipe 
from  my  memory." 

It  was  upon  this  visit  that  Mr.  Fields  met  John 
Wilson  (Christopher  North)  and  William  Words 
worth,  but  he  has  recorded  his  memory  of  these 
visits   both   in    prose    and   verse    more    satisfac 
torily  than  in  these  meagre  jottings  from  his  diary. 
To  return  briefly  to  the  journal :  — 
"  My  last  day  in  London.     The  old  apple-woman  at 
the  corner  of  Arundel  Street  wishes  me  all  sorts  of  luck 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.        31 

wherever  I  may  go  I  I  have  eaten  her  pears  till  she 
seems  like  a  friend  I  am  leaving  behind.  ... 

"  September  5.  Sunday.  On  board  the  steamer  Bri 
tannia.  Wind  fair.  Head  pretty  steady.  .  .  .  Sat  near 
the  bows  ;  read  Bible  and  prayer-book.  Began  Irving's 
'  Astoria.'  .  .  . 

"  September  8.  Walked  with  Judge  K.  and  a  Scotch 
gentleman  who  is  to  travel  a  year  in  America  ;  thinks 
New  York  is  in  New  England  and  New  Orleans  near 
Boston. 

"  September  9.  Bed  most  of  the  day.  P very 

funny,  but  I  can't  laugh  at  his  jokes.  Much  obliged  to 
him,  however,  for  trying  to  amuse  me. 

44  September  15.  At  five  o'clock  this  evening,  while 

lying  in  my  berth  talking  with  B ,  the  steamer  ran 

ashore 

"  September  16.  Leaking  badly.  .  .  .  can't  help 
laughing  at  — - —  behind  his  back.  His  courage  has 
dwindled  to  a  pin's  point.  He  has  just  left  his  state 
room  with  a  face  like  a  tombstone. 

"  September  17.  Leaking  badly  —  nearing  Halifax. 
.  .  .  Jumped  ashore  and  walked  all  over  the  city.  .  .  . 

"Sunday  morning,  Sailing  up  Boston  Harbor.  I  have 
walked  the  deck  two  long  nights  thinking  of  home  and 
friends." 

Once  more  in  the  old  places  Mr.  Fields  took  up 
his  renewed  life  with  increased  vigor.  The  fol 
lowing  note  to  Miss  Mitford  in  1849  gives  a  hint 
of  his  literary  occupations  :  — 


32  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

BOSTON,  U.  S.  A.,  November  10,  1849. 

"  DEAR  Miss  MITFOKD,  —  Many  weeks  have  elapsed 
since  I  received  your  welcome  letter,  and  I  have  delayed 
answering  it  till  now  that  I  might  send  you  a  book  I 
have  been  editing.  It  is  called  fc  The  Boston  Book,'  be 
cause  it  contains  the  contributions  of  our  metropolitan 
writers.  Among  our  Boston  men  you  will  find  the  names 
of  Webster,  Prescott,  Longfellow,  and  others  not  unknown 
across  the  waters.  I  did  not  include  Channing  because 
I  have  not  printed  the  writings  of  any  deceased  authors. 
The  book  is  intended  as  a  souvenir  to  be  handed  to  a 
friend  as  a  memento  of  our  city,  and  I  am  happy  to  say 
a  large  edition  is  already  sold. 

"  Mr.  George  Ticknor's  '  History  of  Spanish  Litera 
ture'  is  going  through  the  press  rapidly.  It  will  be 
ready  in  a  few  weeks  for  publication. 

"  I  made  your  compliments  as  expressed  in  your  lasfc 
letter,  and  he  in  return,  with  his  family,  begs  his  kindest 
regards.  I  have  read  some  portions  of  his  book,  those 
devoted  to  the  ballad  literature  of  Spain,  and  am  greatly 
charmed  with  the  perusal. 

"  In  the  course  of  next  month  I  intend  to  prepare,  if  I 
get  the  leisure,  a  brief  article  on  some  of  the  less  known 
and  more  recent  English  poets  for  one  of  our  Boston 
periodicals,  called  the  4  Examiner,'  and  hope  to  please 

B by  saying  in  print  how  well  I  like  him.  I  am 

busy  just  now  superintending  the  republication  of  the 
complete  poems  of  Robert  Browning,  the  first  American 
reprint.  It  will  be  issued  by  our  house  in  a  few  weeks. 
I  asked  my  friend  Mr.  Whipple  to  send  you  a  copy  of 
his  '  Lectures,'  which,  I  am  sure,  you  will  like. 


AND   PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  33 

"  Mr.  Webster  has  lately  made  one  of  his  great 
speeches  touching  Hungarian  affairs.  I  think  I  have 
never  seen  the  lion  more  roused. 

"  Mr.  Prescott  is  still  busy  with  his  4  History  of  Philip 
II.  of  Spain.'  He  is  not  determined  as  to  the  extent 
of  his  labor,  but  it  will  undoubtedly  be  one  of  his  long 
est  efforts,  and  I  think  one  of  his  most  successful  ones. 

"  With  all  my  best  wishes  for  your  health  and  happi 
ness,  in  which  I  am  heartily  joined  by  my  friends, 
"  I  remain,  dear  Miss  Mitford,  always 

h  Yours  most  truly,  JAMES  T.  FIELDS. 

"P.  S.  Has  there  ever  been  made  a  good  engraved 
portrait  of  yourself  ?  If  so  pray  send  me  one.  I  have 
that  which  appeared  in  Chorley's  work  some  years  ago, 
but  I  should  like  a  better  one  if  possible." 

In  1850  Mr.  Fields  married  the  younger  sister 
of  his  first  betrothed,  Eliza  Willard.  For  a  few 
brief  months  they  were  supremely  happy,  but 
before  a  second  summer  ended  she  also  vanished 
away.  His  suffering  was  very  great.  Being  in 
the  full  vigor  of  manhood  he  could  not  help  feel 
ing  that  his  life,  some  life  to  him  in  this  world, 
still  remained,  and  he  must  face  it  alone.  He 
was  blinded  and  unequal  to  his  duties,  therefore 
he  was  advised  again  to  leave  America  and  pass 
a  year  in  Europe. 

The    happy  season   of   his   marriage  was   also 
fruitful  of  much  labor  in  his  career  as  a  publisher. 
In  October,  1850,  he  writes  to  Miss  Mitford  :  — 
3 


34  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

"Many  months  have  elapsed  since  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  writing  to  my  kind  friends  in  England.  I 
have  been  absent  from  home,  and  more  than  ever  busy. 
The  older  I  grow,  thicker  and  faster  comes  upon  me  from 
every  quarter,  work,  hard  and  unremitting  work.  The 
matter  of  a  publishing  house  never  moves  out  of  the 
way,  but  is  continually  crowding  itself  before  one's  eyes, 
so  that  I  now  find  at  night  huge  piles  of  unfinished  labor 
all  ready  to  stare  upon  me  in  the  morning." 

Again  lie  writes  :  — 

BOSTON,  January  7,  1851. 

"MY  DEAR  Miss  MlTFORD,  — A  few  days  ago  I  read 
from  one  of  our  American  newspapers  a  fresh  paper  from 
your  delightful  pen  descriptive  of  English  scenery  in 
and  about  your  own  residence.  It  was  copied  from  the 
4  Ladies'  Companion.'  How  charmed  I  was  with  it,  and 
how  it  roused  me  again  to  wishing  myself  once  more  in 
the  dear  old  lanes  of  England.  My  passion  for  rural 
life  in  your  country  amounts  to  a  disease.  Sometimes 
when  I  get  musing  about  my  rambles  in  England  in 
1847,  I  become  very  impatient  that  I  see  no  chance  of 
my  visit  being  repeated  the  next  summer.  .  .  .  Pray 
accept  my  thanks  for  Carlisle's  speech.  It  is  well  done, 
and  is  another  evidence  of  his  honest  good  sense.  I 
send  you  a  brace  of  volumes  by  his  friend  Charles  Sum- 
ner,  a  man  whose  splendid  talents  (albeit  his  politics 
are  unpopular)  will  send  him  to  the  Senate  the  next 
spring  we  hope.  I  also  send  you  Holmes's  other  vol 
ume  of  poems  and  his  late  pamphlet.  I  am  sure  you 
will  like  Holmes.  He  is  a  prodigious  favorite  in  Bos 
ton,  and  one  of  our  most  eminent  physicians.  Hillard's 


AND   PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  35 

address,  which  I  enclose  in  the  same  parcel,  is  very 
well  thought  of  here  and  all  over  New  England.  Hii- 
lard  is  one  of  oar  most  eloquent  speakers,  and  idolized 
greatly  among  the  young  men.  We  intended  to  repub- 
lish  Mrs.  Browning's  new  edition,  but  another  house  in 
New  York  claims  the  right,  so  we  give  it  up. 

"  You  would  be  amazed  to  see  what  a  call  we  have  for 
Bonn's  new  edition  of  4  Our  Village,'  about  Christmas. 
I  always  order  from  him  a  good  stock,  but  we  generally 
run  out  long  before  the  New  Year.  By  the  steamer  just 
in  (which  brings  me  your  kind  letter),  I  see  we  have  a 
fresh  lot,  redolent  of  the  woods  and  fields  of  Old  Eng 
land. 

"  I  forget  if  I  have  sent  you  a  few  new  pieces  of  mine 
printed  since  the  little  volume.  I  will  try,  however,  to 
pick  them  up  from  the  newspapers  and  enclose  to  you  in 
some  future  letter.  Hawthorne  is  writing  a  new  ro 
mance,  to  be  called  '  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables.' 
When  it  is  printed,  I  shall  send  it  to  you."  .  .  . 

We  find  the  correspondence  of  this  period  in 
cludes,  almost  without  exception,  all  the  men  and 
women  of  any  literary  note  in  America.  His  cor 
respondence  with  some  of  them  was  only  the  be 
ginning  of  friendships  which  were  uninterrupted 
to  the  end,  and  bringing  the  fruitage  he  most 
valued  to  his  life.  Among  the  letters,  beginning 
at  this  time,  from  those  who  have  gone  from  this 
earthly  scene,  I  find  those  of  Hawthorne,  Willis, 
Mrs.  Anna  Cora  Mowatt,  the  actress,  of  whom 


36  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Edgar  Poe  wrote :  "  Her  sympathy  with  the  pro 
found  passions  is  evidently  intense.  .  .  .  This 
enthusiasm,  this  well  of  deep  feeling,  should  be 
made  to  prove  for  her  an  inexhaustible  source  of 
fame.  .  .  .  Her  step  is  the  perfection  of  grace. 
Often  have  I  watched  her  for  hours  with  the  clos 
est  scrutiny,  yet  never  for  an  instant  did  I  observe 
her  in  an  attitude  of  the  least  awkwardness  or 
even  constraint,  while  many  of  her  seemingly  im 
pulsive  gestures  spoke  in  loud  terms  of  the  woman 
of  genius,  of  the  poet  imbued  with  the  profound- 
est  sentiment  of  the  beautiful  in  motion.  ...  A 
more  radiantly  lovely  smile  it  is  quite  impossi 
ble  to  conceive."  Mrs.  Mowatt  was  much  beloved 
by  her  friends,  and  always  counted  Mr.  Fields 
among  them. 

Fitz  Greene  Halleck's  letters  are  also  before  me, 
and  brief  notes  of  Margaret  Fuller  and  Mrs.  Kirk- 
land  ;  letters  of  Miss  Catherine  Sedgwick  and 
Epes  Sargent,  Lewis  Gaylord  Clark,  J.  G-.  C.  Brain- 
ard  (whose  beautiful  sonnet  upon  Niagara  was  one 
of  Mr.  Fields's  favorite  poems),  Bayard  Taylor, 
Charles  Sunnier,  and  Henry  B.  Hirst. 

The  mention  of  Brainard's  name  recalls  a  half- 
forgotten  anecdote  Mr.  Fields  related  of  him,  as 
told  by  Mr.  S.  G.  Goodrich.    Brainard  was  a  young 
lawyer,  and    had  an  office  very  near  Mr.  Good 
rich's.     They  were  too   poor   to   keep  a  boy  tf 


PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  37 

make  their  fires  in  the  winter,  so  they  were  in 
the  habit  of  going  down  together  and  making 
them  with  their  own  hands.  One  morning  Brain- 
ard  had  his  stove  open  ready  to  put  in  the  fuel, 
when  the  sonnet  upon  Niagara  came  to  him. 
He  called  G.  in  and  repeated  the  lines.  "  Write 
it  down,  write  it  down/'  said  G.,  "  it  is  superb." 

Mrs.  Seba  Smith,  also,  and  the  Davidsons,  are 
found  in  this  somewhat  heterogeneous  collection  ; 
and  Dr.  Channing,  George  P.  Morris,  Rufus  Gris- 
wold,  George  S.  Hillard,  Thomas  Crawford,  the 
sculptor,  T.  B.  Eead,  and  many  others. 

The  following  lines  were  sent  to  Mr.  Fields  by 
George  S.  Hillard,  on  the  occasion  of  the  publica 
tion  of  the  latter's  "  Six  Months  in  Italy "  in 
1853:  — 

"  Dear  Fields,  it  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  find 
My  name  upon  a  page  with  yours  conjoined. 
For  us  that  launch  upon  a  sea  of  ink 
Our  foolscap  argosies,  to  swim  or  sink, 
No  better  flag  than  yours  to  sail  beneath, 
E'er  felt  the  sunbeam's  kiss,  the  breeze's  breath. 
The  ogre  publisher  whom  poets  paint, 
That  sucks  the  blood  of  authors  till  they  faint, 
The  stern  pasha  of  Paternoster  Row, 
Whose  scrawl  portends  '  the  everlasting  no,' 
Is  a  mere  myth  to  us,  who  see  in  you 
A  heart  still  faithful  to  the  morning  dew. 
Had  I  a  draught  of  Hippocrene  sustained, 
'T  is  to  your  health  the  goblet  should  be  drained. 
Large  sales  your  ventures  crown,  and  may  your  books 
Reflect  the  cordial  promise  of  your  looks." 


38  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

The  correspondence  with  Mr.  Hillard  is  one  of 
the  earliest  date,  and  the  friendship  was  sustained 
until  the  end.  In  1856,  upon  the  introduction  of 
"  the  blue  and  gold  "  books,  wherein  the  poets 
were  so  many  of  them  conveniently  enshrined  by 
Mr.  Fields,  the  following  lines  were  again  ad 
dressed  to  him  by  Mr.  Hillard :  — 

TO  J.  T.  F. 

"  When  your  new  Tennyson  I  hold,  dear  friend, 

Where  blue  and  gold,  like  sky  and  sunbeam,  blend,  — 

A  fairy  tome  —  of  not  too  large  a  grasp 

For  queen  Titania's  dainty  hand  to  clasp,  — 

I  feel  fresh  truth  in  the  old  saying  wise, 

That  greatest  worth  in  smallest  parcel  lies. 

Will  not  the  diamond,  that  fiery  spark, 

Buy  a  whole  quarry-full  of  granite  stark? 

Does  not  the  flaunting  holly-hock  give  place 

To  that  pale  flower,  with  downward-drooping  face, 

Which  summer  fashions  of  the  moonbeams'  sheen 

And  sets  in  tents  of  purest  emerald  green? 

Well  suits  your  book  with  this  sweet  month  of  June, 

When  earth  and  sky  are  in  their  perfect  tune. 

For,  when  I  read  its  golden  words,  I  think 

I  hear  the  brown  thrush  and  the  bob-o-link  ;  — 

I  hear  the  summer  brook,  the  summer  breeze, 

I  hear  the  whisper  of  the  swaying  trees. 

Between  the  lines  red  roses  seem  to  grow, 

And  lilies  white  around  the  margin  blow. 

Cloud-shadows  swift  across  the  meadow  pass 

And  fruit-trees  drop  their  blossoms  on  the  grass. 

Thanks  to  the  poet,  who  to  dusty  hearts 

The  balm  and  bloom  of  summer  fields  imparts; 

Who  gives  the  toil-worn  mind  a  passage  free 

To  the  brown  mountain  and  the  sparkling  sea; 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  39 

Who  lifts  the  thoughts  from  earth,  and  pours  a  ray 

Of  fairy-land  around  life's  common  way. 

And  thanks  to  you  who  put  this  precious  wine, 

Red  from  the  poet's  heart,  in  flasks  so  fine, 

The  hand  may  clasp  them,  and  the  pocket  hold ;  — 

A  casket  small,  but  filled  with  perfect  gold. 

G.  S.  H. 

"  June  6,  1856." 

Willis  writes  with  his  accustomed  grace  in  1848, 
"  Your  press  is  the  announcing-room  of  the  coun 
try's  Court  of  Poetry,  and  King  People  looks  there 
for  expected  comers."  Again,  "  When  are  you 
coming  this  way  ?  Slide  down  upon  us  with  the 
autumnal  rainbow  and  see  how  lovely  it  is  here." 

In  response  to  an  invitation  extended  him 
through  Mr.  Fields,  to  come  to  Boston  to  deliver  a 
poem,  Willis  writes  :  — 

"  Saturday. 

"  MY  DEAR  FIELDS,  —  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons  for 
my  neglect  to  reply  to  your  letter.  The  truth  is,  I  took 
the  time  to  consider  whether  there  could  be  such  a  thing 
as  an  effective  spoken  poem.  I  am  satisfied,  now,  that 
my  style  depends  so  much  on  those  light  shades  which 
would  be  lost  on  more  ears  than  two  at  a  time,  that  I 
should  make  an  utter  failure.  I  would  risk  even  this,  if 
it  was  not  in  Boston,  for  (to  confess  the  "  morsel  under 
my  tongue  ")  I  have  few  plants  growing  in  my  hope- 
garden  like  that  of  being  one  day  acknowledged  among 
the  Boston  boys  with  whom  I  was  snubbed  and  brought 
up,  as  a  good  fellow  and  worth  taking  back  into  their 
hearts.  A  failure  would  damage  the  growth  of  this. 


40  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

So,  dear  Fields,  make  my  thanks  and  excuses  acceptable 
to  the  committee  and  believe  me 

"  Yours  much  indebted  and  most  truly, 

"  N.  P.  WILLIS. 

"J.  T.  FIELDS,  ESQ. 

"  Remember  me  to  Whipple. 

"  What  a  ne  plus  ultra  of  a  translation  that  is  of 
'Consuelo'  by  Shaw.  And  what  a  delicious  book  it  is. 
I  have  just  finished  it  and  am  going  to  write  a  word 
or  two  about  it  for  Morris. 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  kindness  to  dear  good  Fanny 
Forester." 

In  spite  of  his  incessant  occupation  as  a  pub 
lisher,  Mr.  Fields  was  continually  writing  and 
printing  verses  and  jeux  $  esprit  in  the  current 
journals  or  magazines,  or  for  occasions.  Any  con 
tinuous  literary  work  was  of  course  out  of  the 
question,  but  such  as  he  could  do  was  done  cheer 
fully  for  others  or  to  stop  some  gap.  Few,  almost 
none,  of  these  early  effusions  has  he  wished  to 
preserve,  but  it  is  interesting  to  note  the  activity 
of  his  powers. 

As  early  as  September,  1838,  we  find  him  in 
vited  to  deliver  a  poem  before  the  Mercantile 
Library  Society,  and  later  the  committee  ask  the 
favor  of  printing  his  "  Poetical  Address."  Doubt 
less  before  this  as  well  as  later,  his  pen  was  busy, 
indeed  it  was  never  idle. 

In  the  autumn  of  1851,  Mr.  Fields  left  America 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  41 

for  a  prolonged  visit  in  Europe.  He  wrote  cheer 
fully  to  Miss  Mitford  as  usual,  before  his  departure, 
informing  her  of  his  plans,  which  were  to  go  di 
rectly  to  the  Continent  (after  a  possible  call  at  her 
cottage  door),  where  he  intended  to  remain  until 
the  following  spring,  when  he  hoped  to  visit  Eng 
land.  He  never  referred  in  speech,  and  scarcely 
by  letter,  to  his  own  grief,  from  the  time  he  left  his 
bedroom  after  the  first  terrible  shock  to  the  day 
of  his  death,  never  directly  even  to  those  nearest 
to  him,  except  to  whisper  once  his  gratitude  that 
he  was  to  possess  what  he  never  again  expected  to 
enjoy.  The  tender  letters  written  him  from  his 
friends  at  the  time  were  carefully  preserved,  but 
all  was  silence. 

In  the  same  letter  to  Miss  Mitford  already  re 
ferred  to,  he  says :  — 

"  You  ask  me  particularly  about  Hawthorne.  He  is 
young,  I  am  delighted  to  say.  His  hair  is  yet  untinged 
by  Time's  sure  silver.  ...  A  few  days  ago  the  author 
of  '  The  Scarlet  Letter '  came  to  Boston  after  an  absence 
of  many  months.  Every  eye  glistened  as  it  welcomed  an 
author  whose  genius  seems  to  have  filled  his  native  land 
quite  suddenly  with  his  fame.  .  .  .  He  blushes  like  a 
girl  when  he  is  praised  ....  I  shall  send  you  shortly  a 
new  juvenile  book  from  his  pen,  as  fine  reading,  by  the 
way,  for  grown  people  as  I  happen  to  remember  from  the 
press  for  many  a  day.  .  .  .  Cooper,  the  great  novelist,  is 
gone.  He  died  a  few  weeks  since  at  his  residence  in  the 


42  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

State  of  New  York.     His  fame  belongs  to  his  country, 
while  his  name  is  world-renowned." 

The  spring  of  1852  was  passed  in  England,  as  he 
had  proposed,  and  he  writes  again  to  Miss  Mitford, 
first  from  Rome,  later  from  Paris,  and  finally  from 
Regent  Street. 

In  Rome  he  says  :  — 

"I  can  see  the  almond  trees  in  full  bloom  from  my 
window  and  hear  the  birds  about  the  orange  trees,  but  I 
shall  be  glad  once  more  to  hear  the  English  tongue  even 
in  a  bird's  mouth,  and  look  upon  the  hedges  which  skirt 
the  lanes  down  which  we  rode  that  fine  autumnal  day 
which  seems  so  long  ago.  ...  I  had  a  charming  visit 
while  in  Paris,  to  the  Brownings,  and  only  regretted  I 
could  not  see  more  of  them.  I  was  glad  to  find  Mrs. 
Browning  in  better  health  than  I  anticipated  and  hope 
she  will  live  to  write  many  more  great  poems." 

Again  in  Paris  he  writes  :  — 

"  Partly  on  my  own  account  and  something  on  yours 
(knowing  your  enthusiasm  for  the  Bonapartes)  I  went 
to  the  President's  ball.  It  was  a  splendid  affair.  ...  I 
was  looking  intently  at  Jerome  Bonaparte,  who  stood 
talking  with  General  M.,  when  the  President  himself, 
with  Lady  Cowley  on  his  arm,  came  into  the  great  hall 
and  took  his  seat  directly  in  front  of  the  spot  where  I 
was  standing.  He  looked  pale,  and  although  he  bowed 
with  a  smile  to  those  who  stood  near,  I  thought  I  dis 
covered  a  deeper  meaning  in  his  look  than  he  meant  to 
be  exhibited  then  and  there.  I  cannot  but  think  he  is  a 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  43 

man  for  the  time  and  will  show  himself  competent  to 
carry  out  all  his  designs.  His  face  I  think  better  than 
his  portraits.  It  is  folly  to  call  him  ill-looking.  ...  I 
have  seen  a  great  genius  since  my  last  note,  Rachel ; 
you  may  judge  how  delighted  I  was  a  few  nights  since 
to  read  her  name  underlined  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais. 
The  play  was  Diane,  a  new  drama  of  the  time  of  Louis 
XIII.  When  the  curtain  drew  up  she  was  discovered 
coming  down  the  stairs  of  a  rude  cottage  with  the  step 
of  a  queen.  She  advanced  with  a  mien  so  noble  and  yet 
so  natural  —  so  simple  and  so  regal  at  the  same  time, 
that  I  hardly  knew  which  to  admire  more,  the  quiet  or 
the  majestic  in  her  deportment.  Throughout  the  whole 
drama  she  was  magnificent.  At  one  time  she  stood  such 
a  living  monument  of  woe,  that  Niobe  herself  is  not  so 
drowned  in  sorrow  as  she  appeared.  I  was  charmed 
with  this  superb  creature,  and  shall  not  soon  forget  her 
splendid  manner  when  she  replied  to  a  young  gallant  in 
the  first  act  as  she  was  going  off  the  stage.  He  followed 
her  crying  out,  4  Ne  saurai-je  pas  qui  je  salue  ?  '  She 
turned  round  very  quietly  and  said  in  a  voice,  that  made 
music  of  the  reply,  these  simple  words  '  Une  femme.'  It 
was  worth  a  voyage  across  the  billowy  Atlantic  to  hear 
that  voice  and  see  that  manner.  You  remember  Fuseli's 
remark,  when  some  one  in  his  hearing  said  the  existence 
of  the  soul  was  a  doubtful  problem.  Rachel  might  truly 
affirm,  that,  however  badly  off  other  people  might  be  in 
that  way,  she  had  a  soul.  I  hope  some  day  you  may  have 
the  opportunity  of  seeing  this  great  creature  on  the  stage. 
She  is  worthy  of  all  the  praise  that  has  been  lavished 
upon  her.  I  understand  she  has  had  the  good  taste  to 


44  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

preserve  among  the  ornaments  of  her  splendid  salon,  the 
poor  little  guitar  which  used  to  accompany  her  voice 
when  a  child  she  went  about  singing  at  the  doors  of  the 
cafes  on  the  Boulevards. 

" 1  am  delighted  at  what  you  tell  me  about  your  por 
trait  and  hope  I  may  get  an  engraved  copy  to  carry  home 
with  me.  I  have  now  hanging  up  in  my  little  library 
room  in  Boston  your  likeness  engraved  for  Henry  Chor- 
ley's  '  Authors  of  England,'  and  there  is  a  nice  little 
niche  for  the  engraving  now  on  the  tapis,  wherein  I  hope 
to  place  it.  In  a  few  weeks  I  hope  to  find  you  in  Swal- 
lowfield  and  as  much  improved  in  health  as  my  heart 
could  wish. 

"  Very  sincerely  yours  always, 

"  J.  T.  FIELDS." 

"  72  REGENT  STREET,  LONDON,  May  21,  1852. 

"  MY  DEAE,  Miss  MITFOED,  —  As  soon  as  I  sweep 
away  this  load  of  pressing  business  I  shall  run  down  to 
Swallowfield,  and  I  must  find  you  well  again.  Then 
we  will  talk  over  the  contents  of  your  kind  letter  re 
ceived  in  Paris  a  few  days  ago,  and  which  I  did  not 
answer  as  I  knew  I  should  so  soon  meet  you  again. 
Your  requests  about  a  portrait  of  Louis  Napoleon  and 
the  Memoir  of  the  President  were  curiously  enough  com 
plied  with  before  the  receipt  of  your  letter.  I  had  al 
ready  packed  away  in  my  trunk  a  little  bust  of  the 
Prince  and  one  of  Beranger  for  you,  together  with  the 
Memoir,  a  recent  one,  and  a  copy  of  Galignani's  edition  of 
your  *  Reminiscences.'  This  last  is  not  yet  published, 
but  I  got  from  the  bindery  a  copy  in  advance,  thinking 
you  would  like  to  know  how  you  look  across  the  channel. 


AND   PERSONAL    SKETCHES.  45 

When  I  go  down  to  Swallowfield  I  will  bring  these  with 
me.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  delighted  I  am  in  the  perusal 
of  your  book,  which  I  read  in  the  cars  between  Paris  and 
Boulogne.  How  happy  you  must  be  in  the  thought  of 
what  a  world  of  pleasure  you  have  given  to  your  readers. 
I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  that  I  found  letters  in  Lon 
don  from  Holmes,  Hawthorne,  and  Longfellow,  all  of 
whom  are  delighted  with  your  praise.  And  I  must  not 
forget  to  say  how  grateful  I  am  for  the  too  kind  manner 
in  which  my  own  name  is  mentioned.  I  see  in  the 
American  papers  your  chapter  on  Webster  is  copied 
weekly  everywhere.  He  cannot  but  be  delighted  with 
your  charming  account  of  his  visit. 

"  Hawthorne  has  just  finished  another  romance. 
Whipple,  who  has  read  the  manuscript,  says  it  is  admira 
bly  done ;  that  it  is  full  of  thought  and  beauty,  and  pa 
thos  and  humor.  The  story  turns  on  the  new  ideas  of 
the  day.  One  of  the  characters  is  a  '  Woman's  Rights 
Woman,'  says  Whipple,  and  although  one  is  all  along 
doubting  her  system,  she  is  of  such  surpassing  loveliness, 
in  Hawthorne's  description,  that  the  reader  falls  in  love 
with  her  person.  The  sharp,  penetrating,  pitiless  scru 
tiny  of  morbid  hearts  which  Hawthorne  is  so  celebrated 
for,  appears  in  this  new  novel  in  some  transcendent  ex 
amples. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  Holmes  is  to  be  immediately 
reprinted  in  London.  Since  you  copied  his  '  Punch 
bowl'  into  your  pages,  that  lyric  has  gone  everywhere,  I 
am  told.  Holmes  writes  me  that  he  wishes  to  be  most 
heartily  remembered  to  you,  and  begs  me  to  say  how 
much  he  feels  your  kind  mention  of  him.  Hawthorne 


46  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

says,  'tell  Miss  Mitford  I  mean  to  write  her  a  letter  one 
of  these  days  and  thank  her  myself.'  ' 

Again  he  writes :  — 

"June  24. 

"  When  I  tell  you  I  have  eaten  twenty-nine  dinners 
out  of  the  house  where  I  lodge,  during  the  past  month, 
you  will  know  how  to  pity  me.  A  return  to  hard  biscuit 
and  beef  on  board  ship  will  be  a  relief.  But  ah,  these 
warm  English  hearts  I  ...  De  Quincey's  daughter  Mar 
garet  writes  me  from  Lassvvade  (near  Edinburgh)  with 
reference  to  my  'Editorship'  as  she  calls  my  humble  la 
bors,  and  I  think  before  I  leave  England  I  shall  go  down 
and  see  the  author  and  his  family.  .  .  .  Ah,  how  much 
I  enjoy  London  !  Not  the  dinners  and  the  opera  sole 
ly  ;  my  tastes  are  low  in  some  departments  and  what 
many  others  would  call  ungenteel  I  dote  upon.  For  in 
stance,  I  like  those  small  specimens  of  humanity  in  the 
shape  of  ragged  boys  who  sweep  the  crossings,  and  have 
established  such  an  intimacy  with  them  that  in  certain 
streets  they  scent  my  coming  afar  off,  and  run  to  receive 
my  trifling  gratuity  with  a  grin  of  satisfaction  that  is 
perfectly  delightful.  It  is  my  delight  on  returning  from 
an  evening  party,  on  foot  late  at  night  and  sometimes 
early  in  the  morning,  for  Londoners  keep  untoward 
hours,  to  encounter  a  poor  devil  barefoot  and  hungry,  and 
surprise  him  with  a  Niagara  of  hot  coffee  and  a  round  of 
meat-stuffs  ordered  for  him  at  a  cheap  establishment 
near  Covent  Garden,  or  in  the  Strand.  One  of  these 
boys  I  picked  up  a  few  nights  ago,  sitting  on  a  pavement 
smoking  the  end  of  a  cigar  which  some  passer-by  had 
thrown  into  the  street.  He  looked  as  he  crouched  along- 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  47 

side  the  wall  like  a  bundle  of  rags  smouldering  away  in 
the  cold  night  air.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  those 
sausages  descend  into  his  poor  empty  stomach,  and  hear 
the  gurgling  of  two  pots  of  beer  as  they  went  down  to 
join  company  with  the  solids!  This  is  my  fun,  better 
sometimes  than  sitting  through  a  play  or  an  opera. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  you  will  like  Hawthorne's  new 
book,  but  it  seems  to  me  (I  have  read  a  few  sheets  only) 
quite  delightful  in  its  way  and  full  of  fine  pictures  of 
New  England  scenery. 

"  I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  what  a  charming  morn 
ing  I  had  in  Mr.  Lucas's  studio.  .  .  .  The  portrait  was 
not  in  his  house ;  it  is  still  at  the  engravers. 

"  Pardon  this  long  note  and  believe  me, 

"Dear  Miss  Mitford,  ever  yours, 

"  J.  T.  FIELDS." 

ft  I  have  not  seen  Mrs.  Browning  yet.  '  Sordello  ' 
himself  I  met  a  few  days  ago  at  Mr.  Kenyon's,  where  I 
had  the  honor  of  being  sandwiched  between  Carlyle  and 
Landor  at  table.  .  .  .  While  you  were  writing  your  note 
to  me  I  was  walking  with  De  Quincey  home  to  his  cot 
tage  from  Roslin  Castle,  where  we  had  been  spending  the 
afternoon  together.  A  more  delightful  day  I  do  not  re 
member  to  have  passed  in  this  beautiful  country.  .  .  . 
He  is  a  most  courtly  gentleman." 

In  the  autumn  of  1852  Mr.  Fields  again  re 
turned  to  America,  where  he  was  beginning  to  be 
sadly  missed  at  "  The  Old  Corner."  The  publish 
ing  business  which  he  had  enlarged  and  yet  con 
centrated  so  closely  in  Boston,  began  to  need  his 
hand  at  the  ship's  helm. 


48  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  Hazlitt's  writings,"  he  continues  to  Miss  Mitford 
after  his  return,  "have  been  all  reprinted  in  America  or 
I  should  at  once  set  about  it.  De  Quincey  is  still  the 
rage  and  I  have  got  two  new  volumes  which  I  shall  send 
you  the  very  first  opportunity.  .  .  .  That  elegy  on  the 
death  of  Mr.  Webster  was  written  by  my  friend,  T. 
W.  Parsons,  a  fine  poet  who  has  done  but  little,  yet 
everything  well.  Have  you  seen  Longfellow's  lines  on 
the  Duke?  They  are  much  admired  here.  Dear  Dr. 
Holmes,  who  has  just  asked  for  you  and  desires  his  love, 
has  been  delighting  all  Boston  with  a  most  sparkling  lec 
ture  on  Poetry  and  Science.  He  will  not  publish  or 
I  would  send  it  to  you.  I  told  Hawthorne  of  his  Rus 
sian  eminence.  He  says  4  Give  my  love  to  my  dear 
friend  Miss  Mitford  and  tell  her  I  thank  her  heartily 

for  all  her  kindness.'  Mrs.  S ,  Heaven  forgive  me, 

I  have  not  called  upon  yet.  Since  my  return  home  my 
friends  have  flocked  about  me  so  pressingly  that  I  do  not 
sleep  or  eat  as  I  once  did.  However,  next  week  I  shall 

go  to  Cambridge  and  sit  down  with  Mrs.  S for  a 

long  chat.  She  is  a  charming  person.  As  you  refer  to 
the  ladies  of  England  who  have  so  modestly  told  us  what 
a  set  of  wretches  we  are  in  America,  I  must  tell  you  of  a 
paragraph  which  I  introduced  into  a  lecture  a  few  weeks 
ago  before  the  Boston  Mercantile  Library  Association. 
4  Our  country  is  sure  to  advance  even  its  present  position 
if  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland  and  her  illustrious  coadjutors 
can  only  be  persuaded  to  remove  their  satin  slippers  from 
the  neck  of  the  Republic.'  The  allusion  seemed  to  give 
the  audience  —  I  had  3,000  listeners  —  great  fun. 

"  Our  President  is  only  a   General  by  appointment 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.         49 

from  his  native  State  in  a  volunteer  regiment,  conse 
quently  lie  is  only  a  General  pro  tern,  and  may  give  up 
his  honors  in  that  way  any  week  he  chooses.  '  How  do 
you  do,  Captain,"*  said  one  Western  man  to  another. 
4  Call  me  Greneral,  if  you  please,  sir,'  replied  the  man 
spoken  to, — fcl  have  killed  a  rattlesnake  and  am  plain 
Captain  no  longer  ! ' 

"  How  provoking  it  is  that  you  do  not  own  the  copy 
right  of  '  Our  Village.'  By  this  steamer  we  have  ordered 
one  thousand  copies  of  '  Bohn.'  ' 

"  Yours,  dear  Miss  Mitford, 

JAMES  T.  FIELDS." 

"BOSTON,  U.  S.  A.,  March  8,  1853. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  MITFORD  :  —  I  am  beginning  to 
feel  sadly  uneasy  and  fidgetty  about  these  days.  The 
truth  is  my  English  fever  is  most  strong  upon  me.  I 
want  to  turn  my  face  toward  the  English  land  again  and 
I  see  no  signs  as  yet  that  I  shall  be  able  to  do  so.  Not  a 
day  goes  by  but  I  think  of  the  far-off  country  across  the 
ocean.  I  open  a  book  in  my  library  room  of  an  evening 
and  try  to  read,  but  as  I  go  on,  straightway  the  printed 
page  slips  from  my  mental  vision  and  I  am  in  '  distant 
climes  and  lands  remote.'  Now  I  am  looking  from  the 
roadside  on  a  cricket  ground.  There  is  a  small  pony 
chaise  quietly  resting  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way. 
A  very  dear  friend  of  mine  is  talking  cozily  with  other 
dear  friends  who  cluster  about  her  side.  A  gentleman 
on  horseback  is  looking  across  the  fields.  Somebody 
says  it  is  the  author  of  'Alton  Locke.'  I  walk  up  to  the 
aforesaid  gentleman,  but  am  disappointed.  It  is  some 
4 


50  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

other  fine-looking  man  who  has  come  out  to  enjoy  the 
day.  There  is  a  picturesque  old  mansion  in  sight.  The 
air  is  clear  and  bracing  and  off  we  go  to  explore  the 
grounds.  Sam  talks  to  us  by  the  way  of  by-gone 
times  when  merry  scenes  were  going  on  within  the  fine 
old  house.  Now  all  looks  dull  and  dreary.  There  are 
dilapidated  houses  where  the  dogs  used  to  live  on  '  the 
fat  of  the  land.'  Now  the  whole  scene  is  changed  and 
the  tall  ancestral  trees  seem  to  sigh  amid  the  desolation. 
Now  I  am  riding  through  the  Duke's  grounds  and  the 
pony  is  full  of  spirit  and  dashes  through  the  gates  like 
mad.  Cattle  are  grazing  all  around,  and  I  can  smell  the 
hay  among  the  meadows.  Now  I  am  sitting  in  your 
pleasant  room  looking  out  across  the  road.  K.  has  sent 
away  several  carriages,  and  we  all  listen  while  you  read 
to  us  dear  friend  Bennoch's  charming  May  poem,  c  And 
welcome  in  the  glorious  May.'  I  can  hear  it  as  distinctly 
as  when  we  sat  together  that  pleasant  afternoon  (it 
seems  but  yesterday)  and  heard  your  beautiful  and 
never-to-be-forgotten  reading  of  those  verses.  Now  we 
are  at  your  hospitable  dinner  table  and  I  am  trying  to 
carve,  an  art  I  never  shall  learn.  Then  '  the  carriage  is 
ready '  and  we  say  '  good-by,'  and  drive  toward  the 
station,  talking  of  the  happy  hours  we  have  spent  with 
our  dear  friend,  the  lady  of  c  Our  Village.' 

"  Oh,  those  days  !  When  shall  we  all  meet  again  un 
der  those  glorious  old  trees  and  under  your  cottage  roof  ? 

"  It  seems  as  if  I  could  not  possibly  get  through  the 
summer  without  taking  the  voyage  once  more.  My 
friends  hang  on  to  the  skirts  of  my  coat  and  say,  '  You 
shan't  go  again  !  '  But  I  will.  I  want  to  see  Swallow- 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  51 

field  and  Miss  Mitford  and  that  famous  illustrated  copy  of 
the  '  Recollections.'  I  want  to  shake  off  the  Yankee  dust 
for  a  season  and  revel  in  a  good  substantial  English  fog. 
I  want  to  see  English  faces  and  hear  English  voices  once 
more.  In  short,  I  want  to  be  in  England  and  embrace 
the  whole  Island  !  I  like  England  and  I  can't  help  it, 
and  I  don't  want  to  help  it !  Why  could  I  not  have 
been  born  with  a  stout  traveling  fortune,  ample  and  suf 
ficient  for  me  to  see  the  shores  of  Great  Britain  as  often 
and  as  long  as  I  would  like  to  ?  What  a  plague  is  this 
busy  atmosphere  of  books  all  about  us."  .  .  . 

"Ever,  my  dear  Miss  Mitford,  affectionately  yours, 

JAMES  T.  FIELDS." 

In  June,  1854,  Mr.  Fields  again  sailed  for 
Europe,  but  he  became  very  ill  and  was  carried 
ashore  at  Halifax.  In  writing  to  Miss  Mitford  of 
his  disappointment,  he  enclosed  some  farewell  lines 
addressed  to  him  by  T.  W.  Parsons  the  day  he 
went  on  board  the  steamer.  In  October  of  that 
year,  however,  he  writes  again  in  a  different  vein, 
asking  her  "  if  she  has  room  in  her  heart  for  one 
more  American  ?  Her  name  is  Annie  Adams,  and 
I  have  known  her  from  childhood,  and  have  held 
her  on  my  knee  many  and  many  a  time.  Her  fa 
ther  (and  this  must  recommend  her  to  your  favor) 
is  one  of  our  leading  physicians,  and  a  great  ad 
mirer  of  Miss  Mitford.  ...  On  the  7th  or  10th 
of  next  month  we  go  to  church." 


52  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

The  Divine  Disposer  who  "  shapes  our  ends  " 
had  thus  far  denied  something  which  seemed  in 
dispensable  to  his  existence.  He  felt  the  power 
and  sacred  rest  which  a  home  can  give  as  deeply 
as  it  is  possible  to  understand  it,  but  hitherto  he 
had  been  turned,  as  it  seemed,  violently  from  such 
hope  or  rest  to  stand  in  the  white  light  of  the 
world.  His  gay  temper  and  conversation  allowed 
no  one  else  to  feel  the  void  and  unrest ;  but  when 
at  last  the  doors  of  home  opened  to  him  he  en 
tered  reverently,  and  with  a  tenderness  which 
grew  only  with  the  years.  What  an  exceptional 
experience,  also,  for  a  young  girl,  a  younger  mem 
ber  of  a  large  family,  with  less  reason  for  special 
consideration  than  any  other  person  of  the  house 
hold,  to  be  swept  suddenly  out  upon  a  tide  more 
swift  and  strong  and  all-enfolding  than  her  imagi 
nation  had  foretold  ;  a  power  imaging  the  divine 
life,  the  divine  shelter,  the  divine  peace.  The 
winds  of  heaven  might  not  visit  her  too  roughly, 
and  every  shadow  must  pass  first  through  the 
alembic  of  his  smile  before  it  fell  upon  her. 
There  was  no  more  thought  of  Europe  for  the 
present ;  by  and  by  he  wished  his  wife  to  go,  and 
they  would  travel  together.  He  desired  nothing 
further  for  himself,  working  with  fresh  interest 
and  vivacity  over  his  plans  for  new  books,  and  for 
the  extension  of  influence  and  usefulness  of  the 
firm  of  Ticknor  and  Fields. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  53 

Mr.  George  William  Curtis  has  lately  portrayed 
with  beautiful  skill  and  feeling  the  publisher  and 
friend  as  he  knew  him  in  these  and  previous  years  : 

"  The  annals  of  publishing  and  the  traditions  of  pub 
lishers  in  this  country  will  always  mention  the  little 
Corner  Bookstore  in  Boston  as  you  turn  out  of  Wash 
ington  Street  into  School  Street,  and  those  who  recall  it 
in  other  days  will  always  remember  the  curtained  desk 
at  which  poet  and  philosopher  and  historian  and  divine, 
and  the  doubting,  timid  young  author,  were  sure  to  see 
the  bright  face  and  to  hear  the  hearty  welcome  of  James 
T.  Fields.  What  a  crowded,  busy  shop  it  was,  with  the 
shelves  full  of  books,  and  piles  of  books  upon  the  coun 
ters  and  tables,  and  loiterers  tasting  them  with  their 
eyes,  and  turning  the  glossy  new  pages  —  loiterers  at 
whom  you  looked  curiously,  suspecting  them  to  be  mak 
ers  of  books  as  well  as  readers.  You  knew  that  you 
might  be  seeing  there  in  the  flesh  and  in  common  clothes 
the  famous  men  and  women  whose  genius  and  skill  made 
the  old  world  a  new  world  for  every  one  upon  whom 
their  spell  lay.  Suddenly,  from  behind  the  green  cur 
tain,  came  a  ripple  of  laughter,  then  a  burst,  a  chorus ; 
gay  voices  of  two  or  three  or  more,  but  always  of  one  — 
the  one  who  sat  at  the  desk  and  whose  place  was  behind 
the  curtain,  the  literary  partner  of  the  house,  the  friend 
of  the  celebrated  circle  which  has  made  the  Boston  of 
the  middle  of  this  century  as  justly  renowned  as  the 
Edinburgh  of  the  close  of  the  last  century,  the  Edin 
burgh  that  saw  Burns,  but  did  not  know  him.  That  cur 
tained  corner  in  the  Corner  Bookstore  is  remembered 


54  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

by  those  who  knew  it  in  its  great  days,  as  Beaumont  re 
called  the  revels  at  the  immortal  tavern  :  — 

' '  What  things  have  we  seen 

Done  at  the  Mermaid  !  heard  words  that  have  been 
So  nimble  and  so  full  of  subtile  flame, 
As  if  that  every  one  from  whence  they  came 
Had  meant  to  put  his  whole  wit  in  a  jest! ' 

What  merry  peals  !  What  fun  and  chaff  and  story ! 
Not  only  the  poet  brought  his  poem  there  still  glowing 
from  his  heart,  but  the  lecturer  came  from  the  train 
with  his  freshest  touches  of  local  humor.  It  was  the  ex 
change  of  wit,  the  Rialto  of  current  good  things,  the  hub 
of  the  hub. 

"And  it  was  the  work  of  one  man.  Fields  was  the 
genius  loci.  Fields,  with  his  gentle  spirit,  his  generous 
and  ready  sympathy,  his  love  of  letters  and  of  literary 
men,  his  fine  taste,  his  delightful  humor,  his  business 
tact  and  skill,  drew,  as  a  magnet  draws  its  own,  every 
kind  of  man,  the  shy  and  the  elusive  as  well  as  the  gay 
men  of  the  world  and  the  self-possessed  favorites  of  the 
people.  It  was  his  pride  to  have  so  many  of  the  Amer 
ican  worthies  upon  his  list  of  authors,  to  place  there  if 
he  could  the  English  poets  and  '  belles-lettres '  writers, 
and  then  to  call  them  all  personal  friends.  Next  year  it 
will  be  forty  years  since  the  house  at  the  Corner  Book 
store  issued  the  two  pretty  volumes  of  Tennyson's  poems 
which  introduced  Tennyson  to  America.  Barry  Corn 
wall  followed  in  the  same  dress.  They  caught  all  the 
singing-birds  at  that  corner,  and  hung  them  up  in  the 
pretty  cages  so  that  everybody  might  hear  the  song. 
Transcendentalism  and  '  The  Dial '  were  active  also  at 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  55 

the  same  time.  The  idyl  of  Brook  Farm  was  proceed 
ing  in  the  West  Roxbury  uplands  and  meadows  on  the 
shores  of  the  placid  Charles.  The  abolitionists  were 
kindling  the  national  conscience  at  Chardon  Street 
Chapel  and  Marlborongh  Chapel.  Theodore  Parker  was 
appalling  the  staid  pulpits  and  docile  pews.  There  was 
a,  universal  moral  and  intellectual  fermentation,  but  at 
the  Corner  Bookstore  the  distinctive  voice  was  that  of 
4  pure  literature  ; '  and  hospitable  toward  all,  and  with 
an  open  heart  of  admiration  for  the  fervent  reformers, 
Fields  had  also  the  most  humorous  appreciation  of  '  the 
apostles  of  the  newness,'  but  minded  with  zeal  what  he 
felt  to  be  especially  his  own  business. 

"  It  was  a  very  remarkable  group  of  men  —  indeed,  it 
was  the  first  group  of  really  great  American  authors  — 
which  familiarly  frequented  the  corner  as  the  guests  of 
Fields.  There  had  been  Bryant  and  Irving  and  Cooper, 
and  Halleck  and  Paulding  and  Willis  in  New  York,  but 
there  had  been  nothing  like  the  New  England  circle.  It 
was  that  circle  which  compelled  the  world  to  acknowl 
edge  that  there  was  an  American  literature.  Of  most 
of  these  authors  the  house  at  the  corner  came  to  be  the 
publishers,  and  to  the  end  they  maintained  the  warmest 
relations  with  Fields,  who  was  not  their  publisher  only, 
but  their  appreciative  and  sympathetic  friend." 

In  spite  of  his  pleasant  preoccupations  behind 
"  the  green  curtain/'  a  whole  new  life  began  with 
his  marriage.  No  threads  of  this  unseen  weaving 
were  ever  dropped  or  forgotten.  The  day  seldom 
wore  from  end  to  end  during  all  the  years  of  his 


56  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

business  life  without  some  brief  note  or  token 
sent  homeward  from  his  part  of  the  city.  "As 
this  is  a  day  to  pick  and  choose  and  be  dainty  in 
the  selection  of  a  book  for  the  fireside  hours,  I 
send  you  a  couple  of  volumes  more  than  you 
have  in  our  bright  room."  Or,  "It  is  such  a 
fine  walking  day  I  shall  call  for  you."  Or  again, 
"  Here  are  three  letters,  they  are  only  intended 
for  your  perusal.  They  are  not  well  done,  I 
fear  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  manage  the  pen  over 
such  a  subject.  A  woman  could  have  said  what 
I  wanted  to  say  much  better  than  I  have  done, 
but  I  doubt  if  any  one  could  FEEL  more  in  this 
sad  business  — " 

Within  this  note  I  find  enclosed  the  two  letters 
to  which  he  refers.  They  were  indeed  intended 
only  for  the  persons  to  whom  they  were  addressed, 
but  they  may  be  of  use  or  comfort  now  to  some  one 
else  whose  eye  may  chance  to  fall  upon  this  page 
when  the  writer  and  those  for  whom  they  were 
intended  have  gone  beyond  and  above  the  diffi 
cult  problems  presented  to  them. 

"  BOSTON,  October  6,  1854. 

"  MY  DEAR .  Your  letter  has  given  me  more  real 

heart-grief  than  I  express  when  I  tell  you  it  has  cost  me 
a  sleepless  night.  But  I  know  not  what  to  say  in  reply 
to  your  communication.  You  ask  my  advice  in  a  matter 
so  delicate  and  unusual  that  I  feel  almost  like  asking  you 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  57 

to  release  me  from  tendering  a  word  of  counsel.  But 
our  friendship  of  so  many  years,  and  the  tender  affection 
expressed  in  your  letter,  will  not  suffer  me  to  be  silent. 

"You  say  you  have  lost  'the  love  of  your  husband, 
and  that  he  no  longer  makes  you  his  confidant  or  even 

his  friend.'     Do  not,  I  pray  you,  my  dear ,  hastily 

conclude  on  this  point.  A  man's  love  is  not  quenched 
so  suddenly.  Do  not  mistake  my  meaning.  I  have  al 
ways  been  of  the  opinion  that  the  affection  of  a  man  is 
equal,  nay,  may  I  say  it,  —  stronger  oftentimes  than  that 
of  a  woman.  If  F.  does  not  evince  the  same  fondness 
for  your  presence  as  formerly,  and  treat  you  with  the 
same  tender  regard  as  of  old,  may  he  not  be  won  back 
to  your  heart,  and  join  his  as  fervidly  to  yours  by  a 
deeply  expressed  solicitude  on  your  part  to  gain  back  the 
love  of  other  days.  It  too  often  happens  in  married  life 
that  husband  or  wife  do  not  come  more  than  half  way 
in  reconciliation.  It  is  hard,  very  hard  to  doubt  and 
weep  alone  the  loss  of  affection.  Let  me  tell  you  what 
I  would  do  if  my  case  were  yours,  as  you  describe  it.  I 
would  hang  about  my  husband  with  a  gentle  kindness, 
and  although  I  would  not  hide  my  grief  for  the  loss  I  had 
felt,  I  would  still  be  as  cheerful  and  kind  as  I  could  be. 
Love  begets  love.  Try  to  make  home  necessary  to  a 
man's  happiness  and  you  will  almost  always  succeed. 
Your  husband  is  a  man  of  intellectual  tastes  and  habits. 
Feel  an  interest  in  his  pursuits  and  spring  to  his  side 
with  a  smile  and  a  kiss  of  welcome,  for  a  sensitive  shy 
scholar  must  appreciate  this,  and  I  am  sure  another  in 
fluence  will  be  exerted  in  his  bosom.  I  would  not  abate 
one  jot  of  womanly  tenderness  in  your  daily  life  toward 


58  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

F.,  but  I  would  rather  increase  in  it.  Depend  upon  it 
no  man  constituted  as  he  is  will  repulse  the  feeling  of  a 
true  wife.  With  regard  to  your  suspicion  that  he  has 
conceived  a  '  liking  and  perhaps  a  love '  for  another, 
don't  believe  it.  I  know  whom  you  mean  and  I  know 
all  her  attractions  for  a  student  like  F.,  but  I  also  know 
the  human  heart.  She  is  too  vain  and  overbearing  in 
her  intellectual  gifts  to  win  his  regard  even.  A  poetical 
temperament  like  his  clings  to  a  warm  nature  and  a 
simple,  beautiful  character  rather  than  to  a  showy  intel 
lect  and  cold  heart.  You  have  every  quality  in  the  way 
of  attraction  that  a  man  gifted  as  F.  is  demands  in  a 
woman.  Gcfd  bless  you.  I  pray  that  all  may  yet  be 
clear  in  your  way  of  duty  and  love. 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

J.  T.  F." 

"BOSTON,  October  8,  1854. 

"  Mr  DEAR  FRANK,  —  I  am  glad  to  hear  from  your 
welcome  letter  that  you  and  yours  are  well  again,  that 
the  cloud  of  sickness  has  been  withdrawn  from  your 
dwelling.  In  your  prosperous  country  you  cannot  but 
succeed  in  your  profession.  '  Be  industrious  and  you 
will  be  happy  '  is  a  motto  so  strongly  recommended  in 
Gray's  letters  that  I  have  never  forgotten  its  meaning. 
Yon  speak  of  'jolly  times'  among  the  natives  of  your 
city,  and  days  and  nights  of  pleasant  intercourse  with 
your  friends  in  the  country.  I  am  glad  to  hear,  if  you 
are  happy,  of  your  new  friendships. 

"  Dear  Frank,  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  how  dependent 
a  wife  is  on  her  husband's  constancy  at  home  ?  Did  it 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  59 

never  strike  you  how  strangely  a  word  or  a  look  falls  on 
a  woman's  heart  if  wrongly  applied  ?  We  men,  knock 
ing  about  the  world  and  jostled  by  one  another,  are  apt 
to  forget  how  much  a  word  signifies  or  how  much  a  tone 
implies.  I  let  fall  this  sentence  simply  because  your  let 
ter  led  me  to  suppose  your  pleasures  were  mostly  away 
from  your  own  dwelling.  Come  now,  my  dear  fellow, 

let  us  be  honest  with  each  other.     is  unhappy  that 

you  do  not  seem  to  her  the  same  as  in  former  days,  the 
affectionate  lover  of  times  past.  You  must  have  seen 
unquiet  thoughts  were  gathering  in  her  heart.  Be  a  man, 
my  dear  Frank,  and  heal  the  temporary  wound  that  has 
been  inadvertently  opened  in  her  young  bosom.  The 
female  character  demands  something  more  than  the  forms 
of  life.  I  hold  that  husband  and  wife  should  be  lovers 
all  their  days.  Why  not?  You  speak  of  your  'hum 
drum  life  at  home.'  This  ought  not  so  to  be,  my  dear 
fellow.  In  your  beautiful  library,  beside  that  glorious 
well-filled  book  table,  the  evening  lamps  lighted,  your 
sweet  wife  sewing  opposite  to  your  chair,  listening  to 
your  rich  voice  as  you  read  to  her  from  Tennyson  or  one 
of  your  own  ballads,  —  there  is  no  hum-drum  in  all  this, 
depend  upon  it,  for  it  will  last  when  your  out-of-door 
friends  fail  and  disappointment  comes  in  to  break  up  your 
intimacies.  Don't  call  me  foolish  and  think  me  officious. 
I  love  you  too  well  not  to  drop  a  word  of  suggestion  even 
in  your  excellent  heart. 

"  All  your  friends  here  are  well.     Longfellow  finds 
plenty  to  do,  and  Lowell  is  probably  laying  up  treasures 
for  the  Lowell  Institute,  where  he  lectures  this  year. 
"  Ever  yours,  my  dear  Frank, 

"J.  T.  F." 


60  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

Five  busy,  peaceful  years  at  home  succeeded 
his  marriage.  These  years  included  a  period  of 
large  literary  activity  among  our  American  au 
thors,  and  Mr.  Thackeray's  second  visit  to  our 
shores.  Closer  friendships  were  formed,  partly  by 
means  of  a  social  club,  then  first  established,  and 
visits  to  New  York  created  ties  between  Mr.  Bry 
ant  and  his  family,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Godwin,  and 
Washington  Irving.  In  Boston,  Mr.  Emerson  was 
delivering  his  wonderful  lectures,  surely  never  to 
be  forgotten,  —  this  master  and  helper,  with  the 
voice  and  manner  of  a  lover  and  a  seer  ;  and  Starr 
King  was  preaching  at  Hollis  Street  Church,  and 
illumining  the  air  with  his  bright  presence. 

After  collecting  books  enough,  "  to  read  on  the 
voyage,"  —  to  answer  for  three  voyages,  as  his 
wife  thought,  —  the  midsummer  of  1859  was  passed 
in  Europe,  chiefly  in  England.  In  an  old  diary  I 
find:- 

"  LONDON,  June  27.  Mr.  Hawthorne  and  Julian  (an 
interesting  boy)  came  to  breakfast.  Hawthorne  wishes 
us  to  take  a  villa  near  Florence,  where  they  lived  ;  he 
said  the  bells  of  the  city  sounded  exquisitely  there,  — 
besides  the  place  was  haunted !  Talked  nervously  about 
his  new  romance,  the  muscles  of  his  face  twitching,  and 
with  lowered  voice ;  he  thought  some  time  he  might  print 
his  journal  also.  .  .  . 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bennoch  kindly  obtained  places  for  us 
at  lunch  at  the  Lord  Mayor's.  The  occasion  was  made 


AND  PERSONAL    SKETCHES.  61 

in  order  to  present  Durham's  bust  of  the  Queen  to 
Madame  Goldschmidt.  Her  sweet  face  was  calm,  yet 
there  were  unmistakable  signs  of  deep  emotion.  A  gen 
tleman,  a  relative  of  Florence  Nightingale,  spoke  of  the 
happiness  Madame  Goldschmidt  had  given  Miss  Night 
ingale  by  her  interest  in  the  cause.  (Madame  Gold 
schmidt  had  arranged  and  sung  at  a  concert,  the  pro 
ceeds  of  which  were  very  large,  and  devoted  to  the  care 
of  the  soldiers  at  the  Crimea.)  Mr.  Grote,  the  historian, 
also  spoke.  .  .  . 

"  Friday,  the  21th.  Mr.  Tennyson  is  in  London,  at 
the  Temple.  .  .  .  Went  to  see  Robson  in  '  The  Por 
ter's  Knot.'  He  is  a  man  of  original  power.  .  .  .  The 
second  time  we  saw  Robson,  he  played  '  Uncle  Zach- 
ary  '  and  '  Mr.  Benjamin  Bobbin.'  Nothing  could  be 
more  touching  than  the  former  characterization.  When 
Uncle  Zachary  comes  up  to  London  in  his  best  clothes, 
with  that  most  excellent  Tabitha  (Mrs.  Leigh  Murray), 
to  visit  'the  little  'un,'  the  mixture  of  pathos  and  comi 
cality  seems  almost  too  much  to  endure ;  also  in  the 
drunken  scene,  when  it  becomes  so  unfortunately  easy 
for  him  to  see  people  and  things  as  they  really  are,  and 
he  recognizes  Wiggins  the  barber  under  his  stately  dis 
guise  !  It  is  inimitable,  indescribable,  unrivaled  !  .  .  . 
Mr.  Dickens  came  in  the  morning,  .  .  .  Arrived  at  Mr. 
Thackeray's,  .  .  .  passed  the  evening  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Mai'tin.  ...  It  was  nearly  eleven 'o'clock  before 
we  reached  Mrs.  B.'s  house,  where  we  were  to  meet 
Elizabeth  Sheppard,  the  author  of  4  Charles  Auches- 
ter.'  "  . 


62  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

This  interview  was  the  first  and  the  last  we 
ever  enjoyed  with  this  interesting  woman,  —  she 
died  shortly  after.  Not,  however,  until  we  had 
received  notes  and  manuscripts  from  her  hand, 
chiefly  short  stories,  which  were  printed  in  the 
"  Atlantic  Monthly,"  and  some  stories  for  chil 
dren.  Beside  these,  the  friend  who  was  con 
stantly  by  her  side  during  the  last  six  years  of 
her  life  frequently  wrote,  giving  us  particulars  of 
Miss  Sheppard's  condition.  This  friendship  seems 
to  have  been  one  of  those  absorbing  relations  be 
tween  two  women  which  are  occasionally  to  be 
seen.  In  one  of  her  first  letters  this  friend  writes  : 
"  I  must  feel  for  those  who  appreciate  one  whom 
I  venerate  as  I  do  my  only  friend.  .  .  .  She  has 
been  my  companion  since  I  was  ten  years  old." 
In  speaking  of  the  article  which  appeared  in  the 
"  Atlantic  Monthly,"  after  Miss  Sheppard's  death, 
she  writes :  — 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  say  that  the  notice  of  the 
'Author  of  Charles  Auchester,'  considered  merely  as  a 
composition,  is  perfection,  —  as  a  criticism,  it  is  most 
subtle  and  powerful,  and  could  only  come  from  the  pen 
of  an  accomplished  writer,  showing,  as  it  does,  that  mi 
nute  appreciation  of  difficulties  surmounted  and  beau 
ties  achieved,  which  only  the  initiated  can  display;  but 
more  than  all,  it  touches  so  tenderly  and  reverently  the 
memory  of  lierself  and  her  writings,  that  it  renders  any 
comment  unnecessary.  .  .  .  There  is  only  one  trifling 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  63 

mistake,  which  I  am  sure  you  will  forgive  me  for  rectify 
ing.  I  allude  to  the  surmise  that  Miss  Sheppard  was  not 
a  great  reader.  It  is,  indeed,  a  perfectly  harmless  error, 
as  it  proves  how  perfect  her  taste  must  have  been,  and 
shows  she  had  that  charm  as  an  author  which  is  alike 
the  test  of  good  writing  and  good  breeding,  —  an  absence 
of  all  mannerism.  But  she  was  indeed  and  truly  a  book 
worm  :  she  read  everything,  or  rather  devoured  every 
thing,  from  the  most  abstruse  works,  such  as  Gall's  and 
Reichenbach's  (taking  in  all  metaphysical  writings)  the 
ology,  occult  books,  history  and  travels,  physiology,  poe 
try,  children's  story  books,  etc.,  and  she  read  in  French, 
German,  and  Latin  with  equal  ease  ;  nothing  escaped 
her.  Yet  again  you  are  right  in  saying  she  could  not  be 
called  a  student,  for  (setting  aside  all  partial  views 
which  I  might  be  supposed  to  entertain)  she  made  all 
information  her  own  as  if  by  magic,  and  her  memory  was 
wonderful.  As  a  child  of  eight  years  old  she  learned 
4  Childe  Harold '  through,  in  twice  reading  it,  during 
play  hours  ;  Shelley's  4  Prometheus  Unbound '  as  quick 
ly  ;  and  everything,  by  the  same  kind  of  intuition,  she 
mastered  in  the  spirit  while  others  were  hammering 
away  at  the  letter.  Goethe  and  Schiller  she  translated 
from  with  ease  at  fifteen,  and  amused  her  teacher  by 
writing  long  German  critiques  and  imaginary  magazine 
articles  as  an  exercise. 

"  I  mention  these  particulars  knowing  you  must  like 
to  hear  everything  about  her  that  I  can  tell.  Also  I 
approach  the  latter  part  of  her  dear  life  with  a  cowardly 
sickness  at  the  heart,  which  is  only  like  8  life  in  death.' 
Now  I  will  endeavor  to  answer  every  point  of  your  let 
ter  without  delay. 


64  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

"  She  often  talked  of  you  and  .  Her  sufferings 

made  all  reading  and  writing  impossible  for  some  time 
before  her  death.  I  inclose  a  little  sketch  in  her  own 
handwriting,  which  you  may  like  to  keep.  .  .  .  For  the 
poems,  I  have  quantities.  .  .  . 

"  No  stranger  ever  touched  her  or  looked  at  her,  or 
knew  anything  about  her.  Thank  God  !  We  were  by 
ourselves  till  the  last  few  hours  of  her  life,  when  a  dear 
Hebrew  cousin  of  mine,  who  knew  her  intimately  and 
loved  her  as  a  brother,  came  into  the  room.  .  .  .  To 
have  had  her  to  talk  to,  to  consult  on  every  intellectual 
subject,  leaves  me  in  that  sense  alone,  now  she  is  gone. 
.  .  .  You  made  a  good  guess  at  Cecilia."  .  .  . 

Several  manuscript  poems  are  found  among 
these  letters  and  papers.  One  is  headed  "  Ex 
tracts  from  Memorials  of  the  Flight  of  Mendels 
sohn,"  but  they  seem  to  be  productions  chiefly  of 
her  early  youth,  and  such  as  would  not  advance 
the  maturer  reputation  of  "  Charles  Auehester." 
Personally  she  was  not  handsome,  but  with  a  fine 
brow  and  presence,  sensitive,  and  refined. 

The  diary  continues  :  — 

"  June  Wth.  Drove  to  Hammersmith,  where  we 
found  Leigh  Hunt  and  his  two  daughters  awaiting  us. 
It  was  a  very  tiny  cottage,  with  white  curtains  and  flow 
ers  in  the  window,  but  his  beautiful  manner  made  it  a 
rich  abode.  The  dear  old  man  talked  delightfully  about 
his  flowers,  calling  them  'gentle  household  pets.'  He 
told  us  also  about  Shelley,  declaring  it  was  impossible 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  65 

for  his  loving  nature  to  hate  any  one,  yet  once  he  said 
4  Hunt,  we  write  love  songs,  why  should  n't  we  write 
hate  songs.'  He  said  he  meant  to,  sometime,  poor  fel 
low,  added  our  host.  Shelley  disliked  the  second  Mrs. 
Godwin,  particularly,  believing  her  to  be  untrue.  He 
used  to  say,  when  he  was  obliged  to  dine  with  her,  he 
'would  lean  back  in  his  chair  and  languish  into  hate.' 
'  No  one  could  describe  Shelley,'  continued  Leigh  Lunt, 
4  he  was  always  to  me  as  if  he  were  just  arrived  from 
the  planet  Mercury,  bearing  a  winged  wand  tipped  with 
flame.'  .  .  . 

"  P.  J.  Bailey,  the  author  of  6  Festus,'  came  to  lunch. 
Fine  brow  and  head.  He  is  a  student  by  nature,  and 
confessed  to  his  hatred  of  crowds.  He  told  us  he  passed 
two  charming  evenings  with  Hawthorne,  who  did  not 
know^  him  nor  discover  him  to  be  a  writer.  .  .  . 

"  Went  to  Cheltenham  to  see  Captain  Robertson,  the 
father  of  Frederick  Robertson  of  Brighton.  Saw  the 
various  portraits  of  Robertson,  also  the  few  notes  and 
papers  remaining  in  the  hands  of  his  parents.  Captain 
Robertson  has  made  extracts  from  his  son's  sermons, 
which  will  be  published  by  Ticknor  and  Fields  for  the 
benefit  of  the  children.  Mrs.  R.  a  most  lovely  woman, 
such  as  I  hoped  to  find  the  mother  of  Robertson.  She 
gave  me  her  son's  history.  .  .  .  They  have  lost  four 
daughters  also.  .  .  . 

"Later  Captain  Robertson  wrote:  4  What  you  say  of 
your  being  continually  bereft  of  your  copies  of  the  ser 
mons  is  gratifying  indeed.  ...  I  fear  the  publication  of 
the  letters  on  theological  and  other  subjects  may  be  de 
layed.  I  hear  they  are  of  great  interest.  Indeed,  the 
5 


66  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

dear  departed  told  me  they  might  some  day  be  pub 
lished.  .  .  .  The  last  of  the  Napiers  is  gone.  You  rec 
ollect  seeing  the  portrait  of  my  friend,  that  glorious  sol 
dier,  Sir  Charles  Napier,  in  our  sitting-room.  ...  In 
the  early  part  of  February,  as  I  had  taken  my  seat  in 
the  College  Chapel,  a  little  before  three  P.  M.,  I  had  a 
mental  vision  that  Sir  William  was  at  that  moment 
dying.  Next  morning  I  said,  '  Mark  my  words,  Sir 
William  Napier  died  yesterday  afternoon  while  I  was 
in  chapel.  .  .  .  Tuesday  morning  brought  a  letter  saying 
that  Sir  William  died  on  the  Sunday  afternoon  without 
a  sigh.  Two  other  instances  in  my  life  have  occurred 
of  this  spiritual  communication  with  me  of  departing 
friends,  so  that  I  can  have  no  doubt  of  the  intercourse 
of  spirits  in  this  nether  world ;  and  I  think  we  may  see 
from  Holy  Writ  that  even  departed  spirits  have  held 
communion  with  those  not  yet  glorified.  .  .  .  Sir  Wil 
liam  said  he  had  a  second  self  following  him  continually, 
and  essaying  to  be  joined  to  him.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
'  the  second  self '  of  which  Sir  William  spoke,  was  the 
one,  to  use  the  words  of  the  sermons,  attendant  on  a  life 
of  spirituality :  '  A  living  Redeemer  stands  beside  him, 
goes  with  him,  talks  with  him,  as  a  man  with  his  friend.' 
...  I  have  had  some  most  interesting  and  extraordi 
nary  letters  sent  me,  to  be  added  to  the  forthcoming  vol 
ume  of  my  son's  letters.  What  editions  have  the  Ser 
mons  reached  in  Boston  ?  Do  my  dear  friends  indulge 
me  occasionally  with  a  few  lines.  ...  I  am  seventy- 
three  years  old,  and  am  anxiously  looking  forward  to  the 
publication  of  my  son's  correspondence. 

"  I  received  lately  a  letter  from  a  Mr. ,  a  strangei 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  67 

to  me,  whose  name  is  a  household  word  at  Brighton,  say 
ing,  <  Bigotry  and  prejudice  prevented  me  ever  hearing 
your  son  preach.  I  have  now  read  his  works  (and  by  way 
of  amend),  have  had  a  marble  bust  executed  (from  a  cast 
taken  after  death),  and  have  had  it  put  up  in  the  Pavilion', 
—  thus  corroborating  what  the  '  Saturday  Review  '  said  a 
year  or  two  ago,  '  Many  a  man  either  in  secret  or  in  public 
has  been  constrained  to  do  penance  at  the  graves  of  Ar 
nold  or  Robertson  of  Brighton.'  In  fact,  the  voice  from 
the  grave  is  doing  more  than  even  the  voice  from  his  pul 
pit.  ...  I  am  glad  to  find  the  approbation  you  speak  of 
regarding  the  Corinthians.  ...  I  have  the  Boston  edi 
tions  of  all  the  other  works,  and  I  hope  to  have  them  in 
every  tongue  in  which  they  shall  appear.  I  have  a  Ger 
man  copy  of  the  first  volume  published  at  Manheim,  an 
English  edition  by  Tauchnitz  of  Leipsic  ;  and  I  hope 
soon  to  have  the  sermons  in  French,  as  they  are  coming 
out  in  Paris;  also  two  of  them,  l  The  Glory  of  the  Di 
vine  Son,'  and  4  The  Glory  of  the  Virgin  Mother,'  which 
are  translated  into  Italian  for  distri] 
over  Italy.  .  .  . 

The  diary  continues :—        (( UNIVERSITY 


"  Arrived  at  Cleve  Tower  —  the 
Dobell.  Mr.  Dobell  came  down  the 
companied  by  his  fine  deerhound,  a  gift  from  the  family 
of  Flora  Macdonald.  We  clambered  up  the  little  lane, 
fascinated  by  his  talk,  and  soon  wholly  at  our  ease.  An 
interesting  and  delightful  home.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dobell 
are  of  the  same  age.  Engaged  at  fifteen  and  married  at 
twenty,  they  are,  —  which  is  not  always  true  of  such 


68  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

early  marriages,  —  deeply  attached.  Alas  !  they  are  nei 
ther  of  them  in  good  health.  .  .  .  We  slept  at  the  cottage 
in  the  garden,  with  a  lovely  panorama  stretching  far  and 
silently  below.  .  .  .  We  can  never  forget  the  wonderfully 
varied  flow  of  Dobell's  conversation.'  .  .  .  '  Came  to  dine 
in  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  in  one  of  the  queer  old 
rooms  (the  place  was  built  in  1485),  with  a  cider  cup 
in  the  middle  of  the  table  quite  as  old  as  the  College, 
of  silver  overlaid  with  gold.  Heard  C.  R.'s  interesting 
talk.  .  .  .  He  finished  reading  to  us  that  night,  his  last 
new  story,  '  A  Good  Fight.' 

"  He  has  a  cheerful,  affectionate  smile,  and  seems  truly 
beloved  by  all  about  him.  .  .  . 

"  ZURICH,  September  1.  —  This  evening  the  news  of 
Leigh  Hunt's  death  reached  us.  It  came  most  unex 
pectedly,  following  closely  upon  his  last  letter." 

Unhappily  the  letter  in  question  I  do  not  find  : 
only  two  or  three  notes  full  of  personalities,  which 
are  not  possible  to  reproduce  here. 

From  early  youth  Mr.  Fields  suffered  from  pros 
trating  headaches,  lasting  from  twenty-four  to 
forty-eight  hours,  when  he  would  lie  pale  and 
cold,  and  conscious  only  of  intense  agony.  Noth 
ing  could  be  found  to  arrest  them  —  hot  and  cold 
baths  and  inhalations  of  ether  being  only  useful 
palliatives.  The  climate  of  Switzerland  was  more 
conducive  to  them  apparently  than  that  of  Eng 
land,  but  no  change  seemed  to  prevent  their  occa 
sional  recurrence.  Only  those  persons,  —  and  alas ! 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  69 

they  are  too  many,  —  who  suffer  in  this  way  know 
all  that  the  word  "  headache "  signifies !  How 
many  good  days  and  good  things  lost!  For  those 
who  watch  by  the  bedside,  also,  their  part  is  not 
to  be  forgotten.  The  interrupted  plans  to  be 
explained,  the  disappointed  persons  to  be  satis 
fied,  the  letters  to  be  answered,  and  above  all 
the  utter  stillness  to  be  preserved  at  all  hazards; 
the  word  "  headache "  is  full  of  significance  to 
them  and  often  full  of  awe,  bringing  them  face  to 
face  with  the  sudden  semblance  of  death.  No 
habitude  can  make  the  coming  less  terrible. 
From  the  diary  :  — 

"  PARIS,  December  18,  1859.  —  A  sadly  eventful 
week.  The  news  of  Washington  living's  death  and 
of  De  Quincey's  reached  us  on  two  successive  days, 

and  on  the  third l  .  .  .  Met  Mr.  Thackeray  on 

the  Boulevard,  —  like  his  old  self  and  delighted  to  be  in 
Paris.  4  Father  Prout '  (Mr.  JVJahoney)  held  him  by 
the  arm.  At  night,  dining  at  the  '  Trois  Freres,'  whom 
should  we  see  but  Thackeray  again.  He  came  and  sat 
with  us,  chatting  during  the  evening  in  his  inimitable 
way.  He  said  Father  Prout  was  <  good  but  dirty  ! '  As 
we  parted,  he  shouted  '  Good-by,  neighbor,'  from  down 
the  Arcades  in  his  own  gay  fashion."  .  .  . 

"  FLOKENCE,  February.     Drove  to  call  upon  Walter 

1  The  space  which  is  not  filled  signifies  the  death  of  John  Brown, 
and  the  unspeakable  sorrow  and  fear  for  the  future  of  our  country, 
which  took  possession  of  every  American. 


70  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Savage  Landor.  He  remembered  his  friend  of  ten  years 
ago  perfectly,  and  his  reception  was  most  cordial.  '  Ah  !  ' 
said  he,  '  I  am  eighty-six  now,  and  forget  everything.  I 
can't  remember  the  name  of  my  new  book  published  the 
other  day  by  Nichol  in  London.  Deuce  take  it ! '  Talk 
ing  of  Louis  Napoleon  and  of  Mrs.  Browning's  faith  in 
him,  he  said,  4  If  that  woman  should  put  her  faith  in  a 
man  as  good  as  Jesus,  and  he  should  become  as  wicked 
as  Pontius  Pilate,  she  would  not  change  it.  No  !  not 
wicked  as  Pilate,  because  he  was  n't  so  bad,  perhaps ;  he 
fulfilled  the  laws  of  his  country  only,  but  any  wretch 
we  might  name.'  He  has  around  him  but  a  handful  of 
pictures  from  his  large  collection.  They  are  mostly  at 
his  villa,  now  occupied  by  his  son.  .  .  .  He  showed  us 
what  he  believed  to  be  original  portraits  of  Petrarch's 
Laura  and  her  husband,  and  a  fine  head  by  Salvator 
Rosa.  He  said  the  whole  collection  was  the  finest  private 
gallery  of  old  paintings  in  the  world  except  that  of  the 
King  of  Bavaria,  and  would  we  go  out  to  see  them  with 
out  giving  his  name  ?  The  name  might  make  the  pic 
tures  inaccessible. 

"  He  spoke  of  George  Washington  as  the  greatest  hero 
in  the  noble  galaxy.  '  He  had  a  large  hand/  he  said, 
4  which  is  an  excellent  sign.  Assassins  have  small  hands. 
Napoleon,  the  most  wholesale  of  assassins,  had  a  very 
small  hand.'  .  .  . 

"  Dined  with  Mr.  Landor ;  were  waited  upon  with 
wonderful  tact  by  Wilson,  an  old  friend  and  servant  of 
Mrs.  Browning.  A  missing  spoon  would  have  been  quite 
sufficient  to  cause  the  thunderbolts  of  wrath  to  descend, 
which  seem  to  stand  ever  ready  at  the  smallest  bidding 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  71 

of  this  old  man.  Fortunately  the  regiment  of  spoons 
and  forks  was  unbroken,  and  all  went  smoothly.  Wilson 
had  reserved  a  little  surprise  for  him  in  a  dish  of  cignale 
which  he  said  was  certainly  the  best  thing  in  the  world. 
The  deep  rich  purple  of  the  Montepulciano  wine  re 
called  to  his  mind  a  song  of  Redi,  which  he  repeated 
most  musically.  Then  he  told  us  how  Italian  wines 
had  degenerated,  and  of  once  meeting  a  man  in  his 
travels  whom  he  asked  to  dine  with  him  at  a  way  sta 
tion.  '  Sir,'  said  he,  '  I  fear  if  you  knew  my  trade 
you  would  not  ask  me.'  'Pray  what  may  that  be?' 
said  Landor.  '  A  wine-taster,  sir.'  '  Oh !  then  come 
in  by  all  means.  I  follow  that  trade  myself  sometimes. 
And  so,'  continued  Landor,  4  I  learned  something  in 
our  after-dinner  talk,  which  is,  that  powdered  orris-root 
put  into  good  claret  will  make  fine  Burgundy.  Two 
teaspoonfuls  dissolved  in  brandy  will  work  the  won 
drous  charm.  ...  I  have  seen  some  famous  people  in 
my  time,  and  not  the  least  among  them  was  Kosciusko. 
A  young  girl  who  had  heard  him  say  he  would  like 
to  see  me  brought  me  to  his  door.  She  knocked  and 
said,  "  General  Kosciusko,  I  have  brought  a  friend  to 
see  you."  "I  am  sorry,  my  dear,"  he  answered,  "but 
lean  see  no  one."  "I  knew  you  wished  to  meet  Mr. 
Landor  "  —  "  What  Landor  "  —  and  in  one  instant  he 
started  from  his  couch  and  came  forward  to  embrace 
me.  He  had  been  severely  wounded  on  the  head,  and 
his  pale  face,  bound  about  with  broad  black  bands, 
gave  him  a  look  of  deathly  whiteness.  He  was  read 
ing,  as  he  lay,  a  volume  of  my  poems,  and  called  my 
attention  to  the  coincidence.  .  ,  Garibaldi  is  the 


72  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

greatest  man  of  modern  times,'  he  went  on  to  say ;  '  he 
it  is  who  has  saved  Italy,  he  has  done  all  that  is  done,  he 
is  the  regenerator  and  savior  of  this  distracted  land.  I 
hope  to  see  him  in  Florence  before  long ;  he  writes  me  to 
that  effect.' 

"  While  he  was  talking  thus  his  grandchild  came  in, 
bringing  him  some  trifling  gift.  At  once  he  was  like  a 
child  with  her.  He  seemed  perfectly  happy  to  hold  her 
on  his  knee  and  watch  her  playful  ways. 

u  I  asked  if  he  ever  met  Byron  in  Italy.  No,  he 
said,  because  some  speech  of  his  was  repeated  once  to 
Byron  which  put  him  in  a  great  rage ;  B.  wished  to  chal 
lenge  him,  but  on  receiving  the  information  that  Mr. 
Landor  was  quite  ready,  and  a  much  better  shot  than 
himself,  nothing  ever  came  of  the  proposed  rencontre. 
.  .  .  Before  parting,  Mr.  Landor  took  from  his  walls  a 
painting  which  he  believed  to  be  an  original  Gtiido  and 
presented  it  to  me.  .  .  .  Yesterday  Mr.  Landor  took  the 
pains  to  walk  round  to  make  me  a  visit.  He  had  not 
walked  so  far  for  an  age,  he  said.  His  little  dog  '  Giallo ' 
came  with  him.  '  Ah,  dear,'  he  said  to  him,  '  I  wish 
they  would  make  a  collar  for  the  Pope,  these  people,  and 
give  me  a  piece  of  it  to  put  round  your  neck.'  ' 

I  find  only  two  notes  of  Mr.  Landor ;  they  were 
written  after  this  period,  chiefly  about  the  publi 
cation  of  his  books.  There  were  many  others.  I 
remember  them  especially,  because  he  became 
very  angry  with  Mr.  Fields  for  withholding  what 
he  calls  "  His  Defense,"  from  the  public.  This 
was  an  unfortunate  paper,  written  in  his  extreme 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  73 

age,  giving  the  details  of  a  quarrel  he  had  with 
a  lodging-house  keeper.  It  was  sad  enough  to 
have  such  a  paper  in  existence,  but  it  was  an  act 
of  the  truest  kindness  to  keep  it  from  the  public. 
Often  Mr.  Fields  would  say,  laughingly,  "  How  I 
wish  poor  Landor  could  be  translated  before  he 
has  time  to  write  me  again  about  his  Defense." 
Unfortunately  he  lived  long  enough  to  be  very 
angry  with  this  friend  as  with  so  many  others. 
Before  matters  came  to  this  conclusion,  however, 
the  two  notes  at  least,  to  which  I  have  referred, 
were  received  ;  the  rest,  like  so  much  else  of  in 
terest  in  epistolary  form,  seem  to  have  been 
plucked  away  by  those  devourers  of  the  literary 
land  —  autograph  hunters.  One  of  these  brief 
letters  runs  as  follows  :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  reminded  of  the  hazard  you 
offered  to  take  in  the  publishing  of  my  Latin  poems. 
They  would  occupy  about  seventeen  pages.  I  had  just 
sent  them  to  my  friend  Mr.  Hare.  Intelligence  has 
this  day  reached  me  that  he  is  somewhere  on  his  trav 
els.  My  parcel  is  not  likely  to  follow  him.  Now,  if 
you  think  it  convenient  to  publish  them,  the  peril  would 
be  less  by  the  addition  of  a  hundred  pages  more,  partly 
poetry  and  partly  prose,  including  my  Defense,  which 
is  far  more  important  to  my  fame  than  any  other  ad 
dition.  Our  friend  Mr.  Browning  will  show  you  a 
specimen  of  the  poetry,  which,  I  hear,  does  me  no  dis 
credit.  In  my  hands  is  much  more  of  it,  certainly  not 


74  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

worse  in  the  more  important  part.  Some  portions  have 
been  published  of  the  prose.  I  would  rather  that  you 
should  possess  these  different  pieces  than  any  other  pub 
lishers.  I  desire  no  advantage  from  them.  If  you 
think  them  worth  your  attention,  I  will  transcribe  them 
legibly.1  .  .  . 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOK. 

"Feb.  2.     Via  NUNCIATINA  2671,  FLORENCE. 
"  My  c  Honores  '  are  not  come." 

This  was  the  period  of  Mr.  Fields's  first  intimate 
acquaintance  with  Charlotte  Cushman,  a  woman 
of  great  energy  and  ability.  Many  of  the  pleas- 
antest  clays  in  Rome  that  winter  were  passed  un 
der  her  roof  and  at  her  table.  Here  was  to  be 
seen,  from  day  to  day,  everybody  of  interest  either 
among  the  residents  in  Rome  or  the  chance  vis 
itors  to  that  city.  Her  dramatic  talent  and  her 
courage  made  her  a  power  in  the  social  circle. 
Miss  Cushrnan  was  a  keen  observer  and  apprecia- 
tor  of  that  disinterested  power  of  doing  for  others, 
which  was  one  of  the  distinguishing  characteristics 
of  her  friend's  disposition.  It  is  amusing  to  see 
how  full  her  letters  are  of  suggestions  for  forward 
ing  her  own  plans  or  those  of  others  in  whom  she 
was  interested. 

1  The  idea  of  the  publication  of  this  book  was  given  up  by  Mr. 
Fields  because  of  Mr.  Landor's  insistance  on  the  subject  of  The 
Defense. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  75 

"  A  thousand  thanks  about  the  something  for  me  to 
read  next  season.  '  Show,  show,  show ! '  It  would  have 
rejoiced  your  sympathetic  soul  to  have  seen  2,000  people 
under  the  influence  of  the  '  Young  Gray  Head.'  .  .  . 
You  would  have  seen  the  reward  of  your  search,  and 
in  pointing  it  out  to  me  as  a  reading." 

"  I  want  very  much  to  introduce  to  you  the  bearer  of 
this,  .  .  .  and  you  will  make  something  of  him,  ...  for 
you  seem  to  have  the  power  to  make  of  people  what 
you  will.  I  think  you  are  the  great  original  philoso 
pher's  stone."  .  .  . 

Again  she  writes :  — 

"  I  want  you  to  come  to  see  me  and  give  me  some 
vitality.  ...  I  want  to  be  taken  up  bodily  and  made 
to  do  whatever  is  right,  and  good,  and  pleasant.  .  .  . 
We  unite  in  declaring  you  are  the  most  wonderful  fellow 
for  finding  out  just  what  will  suit  the  friends  you  love 
and  honor  with  your  gifts.  I  sit  down  with  double-bar 
reled  determination  to  write  and  say  I  am  keeping  well, 
seeming  to  contradict  the  4  malignancy  '  of  disease  which 
my  surgeon  feared  for  me.  .  .  .  Tell  me  one  thing. 
Do  the  lines  in  the  '  Adonais '  of  Shelley,  beginning  at 
stanza  31,  '  Midst  others  of  less  note,'  etc.,  refer  to  By 
ron  ?  or  to  whom  ?  Please  tell  rne.  ...  I  know  you  are 
very  busy,  and  I  would  not  trouble  you,  but  we  cannot 
get to  any  action  save  through  your  personal  press 
ure.  ...  I  will  beg  you  to  assume  this  responsibility. 
.  .  .  E.  S.  has  made  such  a  lovely  little  figure  of  the 
Angel  of  Youth,  .  .  .  and  a  colossal  head  of  the  orig 
inal  (secesher,  I  call  it)  Rebel,  4  The  Archangel  Ruined  * 


76  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

as  she  calls  it,  alias  Lucifer,  which  is  full  of  power,  and 
ought  to  be  ordered  by  somebody  at  home.  .  .  .  How 
wonderful  are  the  4  Biglow  Papers  ; '  there  is  more  said 
in  those  papers  than  has  been  said  by  any  writer  ana 
speaker  yet." 

The  diary  continues :  — 

"  Came  to  Jermyn  Street.  When  Walter  Scott  was 
in  London  he  always  lived  in  this  street,  usually  at  the 
Cherry  Hotel,  just  opposite." 

"Met  Mr.  Edward  Jesse  at  the  British  Museum  at 
one  o'clock.  Through  him  we  were  able  to  see  and  un 
derstand  many  things  of  which  we  should  otherwise  have 
been  ignorant.  He  introduced  us  to  Professor  Owen, 
who  kindly  escorted  us  over  the  department  in  which  he 
is  chiefly  interested.  Mr.  Jesse  is  over  eighty  years  old, 
but  hale  and  hearty." 

A  few  extracts  from  the  correspondence  with 
this  aged  naturalist  may  not  be  out  of  place  here. 
Mr.  Jesse's  books  have  given  him  a  niche  with 
lovers  of  out-of-door  life  and  students  of  natu 
ral  objects. 

"  EAST  SHEEN,  MORTLAKE,  SURREY,  1854. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  FIELDS  :  I  am  become  an  old  fellow 
and  do  not  much  like  to  look  into  futurity,  as  having  any 
certainty  of  a  prolonged  existence,  but  if  I  am  alive 
next  year  you  have  not  any  one  in  England  who  will  be 
more  glad  to  see  you  than  myself.  ...  I  send  you  my 
last  note  from  Mr.  Mitford,  received  to-day.  He  alludes 
to  a  large  mass  of  papers  of  Shenstone  the  poet,  now  in 
my  possession.  I  am  afraid  that  the  unfair  attack  made 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.        77 

upon  him  by  Dr.  Johnson  in  his  '  Lives  of  the  Poets '  has 
done  him  an  irreparable  injury,  though  Shenstone  was  a 
charming  poet  as  well  as  letter-writer,  and  I  have  many 
of  his  unpublished  letters. 

44 1  will  send  you  my  '  Country  Life '  as  you  desire. 
Murray  calls  it  a  third  edition,  that  he  might  introduce 
the  prints  of  former  editions,  but  in  fact  nearly  the  whole 

of  the  matter  is  new." 

"  BRIGHTON,  1862. 

"  Old  age  creeps  upon  me  very  fast.  I  am  rapidly 
advancing  to  my  eighty-fourth  year.  ...  It  is  time  to 
thank  Mr.  Flint  for  his  beautiful  and  most  interesting 
work.  It  beats  any  of  our  modern  works  in  binding, 
printing,  and  paper.  The  subjects  are  most  carefully 
colored,  and  it  is  altogether  a  work  that  does  its  author 
the  greatest  credit,  and  gave  the  recipient  the  greatest 
pleasure.  .  .  .  We  are  very  comfortably  settled  at  this 
place,  though  I  miss  our  pretty  cottage  and  its  garden, 
but  I  feel  that  I  am  doing  some  good  among  the  fishing 
population  of  Brighton,  to  whom  I  continue  to  give  lec 
tures,  chiefly  on  Natural  History,  and  which,  when  pub 
lished,  I  shall  hope  to  send  you.  .  .  . 

"  Professor  Owen  has  been  giving  a  very  interesting 
lecture  here  to  a  large  audience.  In  the  course  of  it  he 
did  me  the  great  honor  to  say  that  he  was  indebted  to 
my  earlier  works  for  his  first  love  of  Natural  History. 
This  was  a  pleasing  compliment  from  the  first  Naturalist 
in  Europe.  .  .  .  Mr.  Agassiz'  illustrated  catalogue  is  a 
curious  and  valuable  book.  Do  you  claim,  him  as  an 
American  ?  " 

Again  we  find  in  the  diary :  — 


78  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  Our  kind  friend  Mr.  Flower,  of  Stratford,  accom 
panied  us  to  the  door  of  Joseph  Severn  the  artist,  and 
friend  of  Keats.  We  found  Severn  a  man  of  kindly 
nature  with  true  devotion  to  his  art.  4  How  strange 
it  is,'  he  said,  '  that  we  never  tire  of  our  labor !  I 
have  enjoyed  working  upon  this  picture  more,  I  think, 
than  upon  any  other  in  my  life,  and  last  summer  I  used 
to  get  up  at  six  o'clock  to  steal  the  flowers  from  the  Park 
to  paint  from.'  l  .  .  .  He  has  just  finished  a  picture  of 
Keats's  tomb  by  moonlight.  It  is  filled  with  all  the  ten 
der  feeling  for  the  spot  which  haunts  his  heart.2  He 
showed  us  a  letter,  the  last  Keats  ever  wrote,  in  which  he 
says  his  pain  at  parting  from  Miss  Brawne  would  cause 
death  to  hasten  upon  him,  but  he  never  wrote  a  line, 
nor  did  Severn  ever  hear  him  speak  a  word,  to  intimate 
that  newspaper  criticism  had  caused  him  mortal  grief. 
Severn  told  us  several  incidents  showing  the  exquisite 
kindliness  of  Keats's  nature,  and  while  he  told  them  the 
unbidden  tears  would  overflow  his  eyes.  '  One  day,'  he 
said,  c  when  Keats  was  dining  with  one  of  the  Royal 
Academicians  whose  picture  had  been  refused,  while 
Severn's  was  admitted,  the  conversation  turned  upon 
this  subject,  and  some  one  declared  in  a  loud  voice  that 
Severn  was  an  old  man  whose  pictures  had  been  sent  and 
refused  every  year  until  this  one  was  finally  accepted 

1  Mr.  Severn  was  at  this  time  over  seventy  years  old. 

a  I  find  this  description  of  the  picture  in  Mr.  Severn's  handwrit 
ing  :  "  The  scene  is  moonlight  at  the  Pyramid  of  Caius  Cestius.  and 
a  Roman  Pastore  is  resting  and  sleeping  against  the  poet's  tomb, 
whilst  a  moonlight  ray  illuminates  his  face,  and  thus  faintly  realizes 
the  story  of  Endymion.  On  the  tomb  is  the  inscription,  *  Here  lies 
one  whose  name  is  writ  in  water.'  " 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  79 

out  of  charity.  Keats  rose  upon  hearing  this,  declared 
Severn  to  be  a  young  man  who  had  never  before  sent  a 
picture  to  the  Academy,  and  a  friend  of  his.  "  1  can  no 
longer  sit,"  he  said,  "  to  hear  his  name  calumniated  in 
this  manner  without  one  person  to  join  me  in  defense  of 
the  truth."  Saying  this  he  seized  his  hat  and  abruptly 
retreated  from  the  room.'  ' 

There  are  a  few  letters  from  Mr.  Severn  before 
me,  and  although  we  may  recognize  the  truth 
expressed  in  an  article  printed  just  after  Mr. 
Severn's  death,  "  that  he  does  not  appear  under 
his  own  name  in  any  biographical  dictionary," 
yet  when  all  biographical  dictionaries  have  floated 
into  oblivion,  Shelley's  words  will  crown  him  with 
an  aureole.  In  the  preface  to  the  "  Adonais,"  the 
poet  has  written,  after  speaking  of  Severn's  de 
votion  to  Keats, — 

"  Had  I  known  these  circumstances  before  the  com 
pletion  of  my  poem,  I  should  have  been  tempted  to  add 
my  feeble  tribute  of  applause  to  the  more  solid  recom 
pense  which  the  virtuous  man  finds  in  the  recollection 
of  his  own  motives.  Mr.  Severn  can  dispense  with 
a  reward  from  '  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of.'  His 
conduct  is  a  golden  augury  of  the  success  of  his  future 
career.  May  the  unextinguished  spirit  of  his  illustrious 
friend  animate  the  creations  of  his  pencil,  and 
against  oblivion  for  his  name." 

I  quote  from  Mr.  Severn's  letters :  — 


80  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"BRITISH  CONSULATE,  ROME. 

"You  will  be  interested  by  the  romantic  incident 
in  my  '  Keats  paper,'  of  my  charming  meeting  with 
the  poet's  sister  in  Rome,  and  that  we  have  become 
like  brother  and  sister.  She  lives  here  with  her  Spanish 
family  ;  her  name  is  Llanos  ;  she  was  married  to  a  distin 
guished  Spanish  patriot  and  author,  and  has  two  sons 
and  two  daughters,  one  of  whom  is  married  to  Brock- 
man,  the  Spanish  director  of  the  Roman  railways. 

"  She  has  been  so  kind  as  to  get  me  from  Madrid 
some  fifty  letters  of  her  illustrious  brother  the  poet,  but 
as  they  were  addressed  to  her  when  she  was  a  little  girl, 
they  are  not  so  interesting  as  his  published  letters.  .  .  . 

"I  am  officious  (sic)  representative  for  all  the  liber 
ated  Italian  nations,  and  in  my  one  year's  consulate  I 
have  been  able  to  liberate,  indirectly,  some  fifty-five  suf 
fering  political  prisoners.  The  state  of  things  at  this 
moment  would  form  a  romance." 

Again :  — 

"  I  am  glad  you  saw  my  posthumous  portrait  of  Keats. 
It  was  an  effort  to  erase  his  dead  figure  from  my  mem 
ory,  and  represent  my  last  pleasant  sight  of  him." 

Finally,  on  New  Year's  Day,  1879,  from  Rome, 
Scala  Dante  (when  eighty-five  years  old),  he 
writes :  — 

"  To  begin  with  Keats,  I  am  anxious  to  know  your 
opinion  of  the  thirty-nine  letters  to  Fanny  Brawne,  which 
I  confess  to  you  gave  me  great  pain.  .  .  .  Lord  Hough- 
ton's  Life  I  admire  very  much,  except  that  he  has  most 
obstinately  given  the  poet  blue  eyes,  whereas  over  and 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  81 

over  again,  I  told  him  that  the  poet's  eyes  were  hazel 
brown,  all  his  family  having  blue  or  gray  eyes,  and  I 
have  always  considered  that  it  was  a  trait  of  nature  to 
characterize  the  poet.  ...  I  am  still  at  work,  occupied 
on  my  Marriage  of  Cana,  or  the  miracle  of  the  wine. 
...  I  cannot  finish  without  alluding  to  the  wonderful 
translation  of  Dante  by  Longfellow,  which  I  am  now 
reading,  and  which  I  consider  the  first  translation  made 
by  any  poet. 

"  Good-by,  my  dear  friend. 

"  Your  ever  faithful 

"  JOSEPH  SEVERN." 

It  would  be  a  work  of  supererogation,  after  Mr. 
Fields's  own  reminiscences  of  Barry  Cornwall,  to 
recall  further  particulars  regarding  him,  or  mem 
ories  of  his  hospitable  home.  Mr.  Coventry  Pat- 
more  writes  in  his  memorial  volume  to  Mr.  Procter : 
"Among  his  friends  in  later  life  no  one  seems  to 
have  won  from  him  so  much  genial  confidence  and 
self -communication  as  Mr.  Fields,  to  whose  charm 
ing  papers  the  reader  may  be  referred  for  more 
information  about  the  poet's  ways  and  opinions 
than  is  to  be  found  elsewhere." 

This  acknowledged  power  to  win  "  genial  confi 
dence  and  self-communication"  must  excuse,  if 
excuse  be  needed,  the  publication  in  these  pages 
of  so  many  fragments  from  the  correspondence  of 
various  persons.  It  is  curious  how  differently  the 
same  nature  unfolds  to  different  correspondents. 


82  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

We  may  learn  to  know  a  friend  by  what  he  un 
consciously  draws  from  others  almost  as  well  as 
by  his  own  conscious  expression. 

The  diary  continues  :  "  Drove  to  Lasswade  to 
see  the  daughters  of  De  Quincey."  It  is  impossi 
ble  to  reproduce  or  to  quote  from  the  private  let 
ters  of  these  ladies,  but  it  is  most  interesting  to 
see  their  affection  for  their  father  and  the  care 
they  took  of  him.  They  were  of  valuable  assist 
ance  to  Mr.  Fields  while  he  was  editing  De  Quin- 
cey's  works,  giving  him  the  dates  when  certain 
papers  were  written,  and  hunting  up  many  details 
which  would  have  been  difficult  if  not  impossible 
to  discover  otherwise,  with  the  ocean  rolling  be 
tween  him  and  the  libraries  where  he  must  have 
searched.  Very  tender,  grateful,  and  sparkling 
letters  these  ladies  wrote,  as  to  a  trusted  friend, 
full  of  home-like  and  individual  touches. 

"  Alexander  Smith  called.  Conversation  interesting 
and  sympathetic.  He  laughed  about  his  unwilling  con 
finement  at  the  Isle  of  Skye  in  a  storm  of  seven  weeks' 
duration,  which  was  the  origin  of  his  delightful  paper 
called  '  The  Sky  Bothie.'  He  talked  especially  of 
Carlyle  and  Dobell,  giving  a  strong  picture  of  the  harsh 
and  rough  side  of  Carlyle.  A.  S.  is  a  man  of  health  and 
energy,  who  gives  promise  of  a  long  literary  career." 

What  could  any  record  of  Edinburgh  be  worth 
which  should  omit  a  tribute  to  Dr.  John  Brown, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  83 

our  friend  of  many  years.  The  world  is  still  made 
better  worth  living  in  by  his  presence,  and  though 
illness  may  prevent  hirn  from  bearing  an  ex 
pressed  share  in  this  memorial,  we  are  none  the 
less  confident  of  his  unexpressed  feeling  and  sym 
pathy.  "Rab"  was  not  to  be  seen  when  we 
were  there,  save  in  the  spirit,  but  "  Dick,"  the 
household  friend,  was  very  well  indeed. 

In  July,  1860,  we  returned  to  America,  Mrs. 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  and  her  family,  and  Mr. 
Hawthorne  and  his  wife  and  children,  accompany 
ing  us.  It  was  an  excellent  passage,  though  all 
our  little  party  were  happy  to  touch  the  shores  of 
home,  I  believe,  except  Hawthorne,  who  used  to 
declare  he  would  like  to  sail  on  thus  forever,  and 
never  come  to  land.  A  large  number  of  letters 
received  at  Liverpool  were  premonitory  to  the 
busy  publisher,  and  he  was  soon  again  estab 
lished  in  his  home  in  Charles  Street,  Boston,  with 
every  moment  occupied. 

It  was  during  this  absence,  though  of  course 
not  without  correspondence  and  consultation,  that 
'<-  The  Atlantic  Monthly  "  was  purchased  by  Tick- 
nor  &  Fields.  Established  in  the  year  1857,  by 
Phillips,  Sampson  &  Co.,  under  the  editorship  of 
James  Russell  Lowell,  it  was  already  recognized 
as  a  power,  when  the  failure  of  the  firm  who  first 
gave  it  existence  threw  it  into  other  keeping. 


84  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

In  1861  Mr.  Lowell  resigned  the  position  into  Mr. 
Fields's  hands,  who  continued  to  fill  the  place  until 
1871,  when  Mr.  W.  D.  Howells  became  the  editor. 
In  1881  he  was  succeeded  by  Mr.  T.  B.  Aldrich. 

From  the  diary :  — 

"July  26,1863.  —  Yesterday  morning  came  an  article 
from  H.  G.  upon  Gerald  Griffin,  author  of  4  The  Col 
legians  ; '  at  noon  came  two  little  lyrics  from ,  pure 

in  feeling,  but  not  adapted  for  publication.  At  night  a 
paper  was  returned  from  the  printing  office,  a  mass  of 
corrections,  nearly  a  week  having  been  exhausted  by 
the  proof-reader  vainly  endeavoring  to  correct  a  bad 
style.  Much  must  be  omitted.  This  morning  comes 

a  poem  from .  Something  had  been  done  by  the 

editor  to  bring  it  into  rhythmical  shape.  The  author 
writes  that  the  deficiencies  were 'intentional,' — never 
theless  accepts  the  amendment ! 

"'The  Atlantic  Monthly'  is  a  striking  feature  just 
now  in  American  life.  Purely  literary  as  it  is,  it  has 
a  subscription  list,  daily  increasing,  of  82,000.  The 
labors  of  the  editor  and  publishers  are  not  light.  .  .  . 
Looking  over  a  historical  article  —  fear  poison  —  the 
author  is  a  fierce  democrat.  has  just  sent  a  pleas 
ing  woman  with  a  volume  of  poems.  The  first  one  is 
about  4  The  Frost,'  but  the  fabric  the  frost  builds  melts 
in  the  sun  before  we  can  see  what  it  is  all  about ;  so 
with  each  one  ;  of  course  they  must  be  refused.  Pro 
fessor  sends  a  pleasant  and  quaint  article ;  the 

only  objection  is  he  threatens  to  send  more  !  Excellent 
paper  upon  De  Quincey,  written  with  great  ability. 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.        85 

De  Quincey  stands  in  danger  of  being  wronged  by  undue 
or  unjust  praise. 

Have  been  in  Concord  this  week,  making  a  short  visit 
at  the  Hawthornes.  He  has  just  finished  his  volume  of 
English  Sketches,  about  to  be  dedicated  to  Franklin 
Pierce.  It  is  a  beautiful  incident  in  Hawthorne's  life, 
the  determination,  at  all  hazards,  to  dedicate  this  book 
to  his  friend.  .  .  . 

"Visit  from  Charles  Sumner.  He  is  to  speak  next 
week  in  New  York  upon  « Our  Foreign  Relations.' 
Meantime  he  has  prepared  an  address  upon  4  Our  Do 
mestic  Affairs,'  with  which  it  was  his  intention  to  open 
the  next  session  of  Congress,  but  events  move  forward 
so  rapidly  he  thinks  it  better  to  print  his  discourse  at 
once  in  '  The  Atlantic  Monthly.'  After  this  matter 
was  satisfactorily  arranged,  Mr.  Sumner  proceeded  to 
speak  confidentially  of  Mr.  Prescott  and  of  their  old 
friendship.  On  the  day  of  his  return  to  Boston  after 
he  was  struck  down  in  the  Senate  Chamber,  a  proces 
sion  escorted  him  past  Mr.  Prescott's  residence  to  his 
own  house.  4 1  had  no  sooner  entered  the  door,'  con 
tinued  Mr.  Sumner,  ( than  Mr.  Prescott's  servant  rang 
with  a  note  containing  these  words  :  "  Welcome  home, 
my  dear  Sumner  ;  I  hope  you  saw  me  wave  you  a  greet 
ing  from  my  piazza.  What  is  the  earliest  moment  you 
can  appoint  that  I  may  call  upon  you.'  When  he  came 
on  the  following  day  at  the  time  suggested,  he  said, 
"  How  I  wish  I  had  known  of  the  reception  earlier,  that 
I  might  have  draped  my  house  with  flags  and  had  a 
canvas  printed  in  enormous  letters,  'Welcome  home!' 
with  yesterday's  date,  and  underneath  May  22,  the  date 


86  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

you  received  your  injuries;  under  these  should  have  ap 
peared  the  words :  — 

1  Then  I  and  you  and  all  of  us  fell  down, 
Whilst  bloody  treason  flourished  over  us.'  " 

He  was  full  of  feeling  during  the  interview.'  Mr. 
Sumner  was  not  only  pleased  with  this  sign  of  friend 
ship,  but  he  felt  there  had  been  some  misrepresentation 
of  Mr.  Prescott's  political  position,  and  the  idea  had 
gone  abroad  that  he  was  inimical  to  himself.  There 
fore  he  was  glad  to  make  this  little  incident  known. 

u  Speaking  of  style  in  writing,  Mr.  Sumner  said  he 
had  re-read  Mr.  Hawthorne's  paper  called  4  Civic  Ban 
quets,'  just  printed,  three  times,  for  the  style.  'I  sup 
pose  De  Quincey  and  Landor  are  the  masters  of  style 
among  moderns,'  he  continued.  .  .  . 

Signed  a  paper  yesterday,  just  put  into  circulation,  for 
raising  50,000  colored  troops  from  New  England.  .  .  . 

Letter  from ,  saying  his  article  in  the  A.  M.  was 

shamefully  mutilated.  ,  standing  by,  says  it  is  the 

editor's  duty  to  cut  off  people's  heads.'  It  does  not  make 
this  duty  more  agreeable,  however.  .  .  .  Franklin  Pierce, 
formerly  President  of  these  United  States,  joined  us  un 
expectedly  as  we  were  walking  in  the  woods.  He  is  at 
least  a  most  courteous  gentleman  and  interesting  man, 
kindly  and  thoughtful.  .  .  . 

"  September,  1863.  —  This  autumn  a  most  attractive 
list  of  books  will  be  published  by  T.  &  F.  Browning, 
Tennyson,  Richter,  Hawthorne,  Ticknor,  and  not  least, 
though  last,  a  new  volume  just  finished,  called  '  The 
Wayside  Inn.'  .  .  . 

"  October  14.  —  Inauguration  of  the  Union  Club.     Mr. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  87 

Everett  made  a  fine  address.  .  .  .  Have  laid  plans  for 
placing  several  works  of  art  upon  the  walls.  Two  are 
already  in  position.  .  .  . 

"  A  rough  old  man  from  the  Cape,  half  fisherman, 
half  farmer,  came  in  to  see  Mr.  Fields.  Said  he,  ;  Mr. 
Agashy  has  been  down  to  see  the  Cape,  and  we  went 
exploring  it  together.  We  discovered  some  wonderful 
things  down  there,  some  things  that  air  to  come  out  in 
the  next  number  of  your  paper  (meaning  the  A.  M.). 
But  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Agashy  and  told  him  there  was  one 
partikler  thing  I  was  afraid  he  hadn't  got  in  his  article, 
something  very  important,  and  he  wrote  back  and  said, 
when  he  got  through  with  his  article  I  might  write  the 
rest  and  finish  up  the  matter.'  '  What  was  the  new 
discovery  which  he  had  omitted?'  '  Why, 't  was  just 
this,  and  I  think  I'd  better  write  about  it.  Yer  see, 
they  've  been  a-planting  cranberries  down  on  that  are 
Cape  and  plantin'  and  plantin'.  Now  yer  see  V  aint  no 
more  use  than  if  they  was  planted  down  here  in  Wash 
ington  Street ;  they  won't  grow.  You  see,  the  soil  down 
there  is  all  either  shelving  or  'luvial,  and  t'wont  do  for 
cranberries.  Now  I  should  like  to  finish  Mr.  Agashy's 
article,  for  he  is  a  real  good,  queer  man.' ' 

"  TUESDAY,  November  3.  —  Dinner  given  to  the  organ 
builders  of  our  beautiful  organ  in  the  Boston  Music 
Hall.  Governor  Andrew  surpassed  himself  in  interest 
ing  conversation.  O.  W.  H.  read  a  lyric,  and  J.  T.  F. 
a  little  drinking  song." 

January,  1864.  Mr.  Fields  received  frequent 
visits  at  this  period  from  Professor  Ticknor,  whose 
life  of  William  H.  Prescott  had  been  lately  issued: 


88  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  Ticknor  is  delighted  to  have  completed  the  work, 
and  to  see  it  in  so  fitting  a  dress.  He  has  much  that  is 
interesting  to  relate  about  the  incidents  of  his  life,  and 
as  the  years  increase  finds  a  greater  pleasure  than  ever 
in  recalling  his  memories  of  distinguished  men  whose 
careers  have  been  parallel  to  his  own. 

"  He  has  never  ceased  to  be  generous  with  his  most 
precious  possession,  namely,  his  library.  Not  infre 
quently  two  hundred  and  fifty  volumes  at  a  time  have 
been  absent  from  his  shelves,  for  he  seldom  refuses  an 
applicant.  It  has  been  the  same  also  with  the  loan 
of  money  in  small  sums.  No  one  has  been  refused.  He 
tells  some  interesting  anecdotes  of  'narrow  escapes,'  and 
of  irresolution,  upon  his  own  part,  when  total  strangers 
have  asked  to  borrow  his  books.  One  night  has  been 
enough  to  restore  his  generosity. 

"  Called  on  Professor  Ticknor.  He  said  he  should  be 
happy  to  allow  his  picture  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  by  Leslie, 
to  be  photographed  if  Mr.  Fields  desired  it.  It  is,  of 
course,  a  great  privilege,  and  will  be  done  immediately. 

"  Sir  Walter  was  pleased  with  Mr.  Ticknor  when  he 
visited  him  as  a  young  man.  and  yielded  to  his  wish  to 
sit  for  a  portrait.  Therefore,  in  1815,  Leslie  painted 
this  one.  Mrs.  Lockliart  preferred  it  to  all  the  other 
likenesses  of  her  father,  and  was  unwilling  to  have  it 
leave  the  country.  Leslie  at  length  concluded  to  make 
a  copy  in  miniature,  and  this  copy  is  still  in  England 
in  one  of  the  fine  collections  there." 

March  5,  1864,  came  the  news  of  Starr  King's 
death.  "  It  is  hard  to  think  of  him  as  elsewhere. 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.         89 

He  seems  necessary  still  to  our  cause,  which  he  has 
served  nobly." 

He  was  an  early  friend  of  Mr.  Fields,  and  from 
among  his  letters  I  have  been  able  to  gather  a 
few  passages  which  may  give  some  idea  of  his 
rollicking  fun :  — 

"PIGEON  COVE,  SUNDAY,  July  9,  1854. 

"  Heartiest  thanks  for  your  bundle  and  Walton.  It 's 
a  luscious  copy.  I  shall  begin  it  this  glorious  Sunday 
afternoon  which  you  have  slighted.  That  will  go  into 
the  choicest  spot  of  my  best  book-case. 

"  I  had  a  rich  interview  with  old  K last  evening, 

at  Sunset  Rock.  He  said :  4I  knowed  suthin'  would  hap 
pen  that  week  the  nigger  was  lugged  out  'er  Boston,  cos 
the  '  old  Farmers '  said,  Look  out  for  Causaltis  and  Ras 
calities  this  week.' 

"  Somehow  lawyers  came  into  our  talk,  and  especially 

.     He   grew  eloquent  on   our  legal  friend.     4  The 

d — d  cuss  pled  agin  me  once.    I  watched  him,  —  GowodI 
He  can  cant  his  countinince  so  ez  to  draw  the  tears  out 
of  the  eyes  of  the  jury  in  two  minits.'     Some  Biblical 
criticisms  were  equally  shrewd,  reverent,  and  rich.  .  .  . 
"  Sir  !  with  great  regard, 

"  Your  friend  and  servant, 

T.  S.  KING." 

"  BOSTON,  March  30,  1860. 

"  MY  DEAK  JAMES  :  —  I  leave  Boston  to-morrow,  and 
New  York  April  5th.  Can  it  be  ?  No  King  in  Boston 
after  this  !  No  portly  frame,  and  handsome  mouth  and 


90  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

nose  which  drives  the  artists  crazy,  belonging  to  the 
Presbyter  of  Hollis  Street,  to  enter  the  dear  old  sanctum 
on  the  corner,  and  pester  the  poet-bibliopole !  Is  it 
possible  ? 

"  And  then  I  go  where  there  is  no  such  compound  as 
yourself.  Fields  there  may  be  in  California.  Chinamen 
are  there,  and  perhaps  tea  fields,  but  no  James  T.  alas  ! 
4  He  was  very  kind  to  me,  sir !'  .  .  . 

"  J.  and  I  laughed  over  your  note  till  we  cried."  .  .  . 

"  SAN  FRANCISCO,  October  29,  1862. 

"...  We  are  chipping  the  shell  here,  and  are  coming 
out  northern  eagles,  not  southern  buzzards  as  the  inten 
tion  was.  We  have  gone  through  a  hard  and  very  im 
portant  fight,  in  fact  have  achieved  the  most  remarkable 
revolution  which  the  war  has  witnessed.  The  State  must 
be  northernized  thoroughly,  by  schools,  Atlantic  Month 
lies,  lectures,  New  England  preachers,  Library  Associa 
tions,  —  in  short,  Ticknor  and  Fieldsism  of  all  kinds.  I 
have  worked  the  last  eighteen  months  within  an  inch  of 
my  life,  in  speaking,  preaching,  orationizing,  traveling, 
organizing,  etc.,  and  have  arranged  to  deliver  there  six 
lectures,  in  addition  to  other  labors,  in  order  to  set  the 
taste  of  our  irrepressible  and  noble  community  in  the 
right  path,  and  clinch  the  political  nail  that  we  have 
driven  through  the  State.  .  .  .  Do  help  me  and  you  shall 
be  rewarded  in  this  life,  and  shall  have  a  copyright  for 
the  lyrics  of  Gabriel.  .  .  . 

"  Your  obliged  friend, 

"  T.  S.  K." 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  91 

"  SAN  FRANCISCO,  February  10,  1863. 

..."  Last  night  I  spoke  to  a  grand  audience  on 
Holmes.  You  should  have  seen  and  felt  the  reception 
of  his  tremendous  lyric,  '  Choose  You  Whom,'  etc.  I 
could  hardly  get  out  the  line,  '  And  the  copperhead  coil 
round  the  blade  of  his  scythe,'  before  the  crash  came, 
which  shows  that  the  lightning  struck.  .  .  .  Lowell  has 
sent  me  a  perfectly  charming  poem  showing  his  two 
faces,  the  humorous  and  the  transcendental,  and  conveying 
the  most  delicate  compliment  to  California  bounty  that 
the  finest  fibre  in  his  brain  could  devise.  ...  I  shall 
clear  about  $2,000  for  our  organ.  Oh,  how  I  want  to  see 
you  all,  and  to  take  our  little  Hesperus  to  an  Eastern 
sky  !  Don't  die,  don't  turn  secesh,  don't  let  the  coun 
try  break  in  two.  .  .  .  How  I  want  to  see  you.  How 
glorious  Emerson's  '  Titmouse  '  is  !  What  vitality  in  the 
Biglow  Papers !  What  excellence  in  the  '  Atlantic  ' 
generally !  Here  we  have  been  nearly  two  years,  and 
have  n't  seen  you  for  three ;  and  we  still  live,  eat  three 
meals  per  diem,  and  are  supposed  to  be  tolerably  content 
with  existence !  .  .  .  I  can't  imagine  what  I  should  do 
if  we  should  see  Boston  and  you  all  once  more.  I  fear 
the  tether  wouldn't  hold.  .  .  . 

"  Yours,  always, 

"T.  S.  KING." 

This  year  was  marked  not  only  by  the  incidents 
of  war,  but  by  the  death  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
His  passing  was  like  losing  a  portion  of  our  own 
household,  so  closely  interwoven  had  become  the 
interest  and  affection  of  the  two  families.  The 


92  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

season  of  that  parting  was  in  the  beautiful  month 
of  May,  as  Longfellow  has  so  exquisitely  recorded. 
Mrs.  Hawthorne  was  not  only  uplifted  herself 
through  the  infinite  beauty  of  spring,  and  the  si 
lence  which  surrounded  her,  in  her  wayside  home 
at  Concord,  but  she  shared  a  large  measure  of  her 
feeling  with  her  friends  when  she  sent  them  the 
following  letter.  I  print  it  because  it  contains  a 
breath  of  true  life,  and  may  breathe  again  upon 
some  soul  whose  joy  is  departed. 

"  MONDAY  NIGHT. 

"BELOVED;  When  I  see  that  I  deserved  nothing,  and 
that  my  Father  gave  me  the  richest  destiny  for  so  many 
years  of  time  to  which  eternity  is  to  be  added,  I  am 
struck  dumb  with  an  ecstasy  of  gratitude,  and  let  go 
my  mortal  hold  with  an  awful  submission,  and  without  a 
murmur.  I  stand  hushed  into  an  ineffable  peace  which 
I  cannot  measure  nor  understand.  It  therefore  must  be 
that  peace  which  4  passeth  all  understanding.'  I  feel 
that  his  joy  is  such  as  'the  heart  of  man  cannot  con 
ceive,'  and  shall  I  not  then  rejoice,  who  loved  him  so  far 
beyond  myself  ?  If  I  did  not  at  once  share  his  beati 
tude,  should  I  be  one  with  him  now  in  essential  essence  ? 
Ah,  thanks  be  to  God  who  gives  me  this  proof  —  beyond 
all  possible  doubt  —  that  we  are  not  and  never  can  be 
divided ! 

"  If  my  faith  bear  this  test,  is  it  not  '  beyond  the  ut 
most  scope  and  vision  of  calamity !  '  Need  I  ever  fear 
again  any  possible  dispensation  if  I  can  stand  serene  when 
that  presence  is  reft  from  me  which  I  believed  I  must 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.         93 

instantly  die  to  lose  ?  Where,  O  God,  is  that  support 
ing,  inspiring,  protecting,  entrancing  presence  which  sur 
rounded  me  with  safety  and  supreme  content  ? 

"  '  It  is  with  you,  rny  child,  saith  the  Lord,  and  seemeth 
only  to  be  gone.' 

"  c  Yes,  my  Father,  I  know  I  have  not  lost  it,  because 
I  still  live.'  '  I  will  be  glad.'  4  Thy  will  be  done.' 
From  a  child  I  have  truly  believed  that  God  was  all  good 
and  all  wise,  and  felt  assured  that  no  event  could  shake 
my  belief.  To-day  I  know  it. 

"  This  is  the  whole.  No  more  can  be  asked  of  God. 
There  can  be  no  death  nor  loss  for  me  for  evermore.  I 
stand  so  far  within  the  veil  that  the  light  from  God's 
countenance  can  never  be  hidden  from  me  for  one  mo 
ment  of  the  eternal  day,  now  nor  then.  God  gave  me 
the  rose  of  time ;  the  blossom  of  the  ages  to  call  my 
own  for  twenty-five  years  of  human  life. 

"  God  has  satisfied  wholly  my  insatiable  heart  with  a 
perfect  love  that  transcends  my  dreams.  He  has  decreed 
this  earthly  life  a  mere  court  of  'the  house  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.'  Oh,  yes,  deal- 
heavenly  Father!  4I  will  be  glad,"  that  my  darling  has 
suddenly  escaped  from  the  rude  jars  and  hurts  of  this 
outer  court,  and  when  I  was  not  aware  that  an  angel 
gently  drew  him  within  the  palace-door  that  turned  on 
noiseless  golden  hinges,  drew  him  in,  because  he  was 
weary. 

"  God  gave  to  his  beloved  sleep.  And  then  an  awak 
ing  which  will  require  no  more  restoring  slumber. 

"  As  the  dew-drop  holds  the  day,  so  my  heart  holds  the 
presence  of  the  glorified  freed  spirit.  He  was  so  beauti- 


94  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

ful  here,  that  he  will  not  need  much  change  to  become 
a  4  shining  one  ! '  How  easily  I  shall  know  him  when  my 
children  have  done  with  me,  and  perhaps  the  angel  will 
draw  me  gently  also  within  the  palace-door,  if  I  do  not 
faint,  but  truly  live,  (  Thy  will  be  done.' 

"  At  that  festival  of  life  that  we  all  celebrated  last 
Monday,  did  not  those  myriad  little  white  lily-bells  ring 
in  for  him  the  eternal  year  of  peace,  as  they  clustered 
and  hung  around  the  majestic  temple,  in  which  he  once 
lived  with  God?  They  rang  out,  too,  that  lordly  incense 
that  can  come  only  from  a  lily,  large  or  small.  What 
lovely  ivory  sculpture  round  the  edge.  I  saw  it  all, 
even  at  that  breathless  moment,  when  I  knew  that  all 
that  was  visible  was  about  to  be  shut  out  from  me  for 
my  future  mortal  life.  I  saw  all  the  beauty,  and  the 
tropical  gorgeousness  of  odor  that  enriched  the  air  from 
your  peerless  wreath  steeped  me  in  Paradise.  We  were 
the  new  Adam  and  new  Eve  again,  and  walked  in  the 
garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  and  there  was  not  yet 
death,  only  the  voice  of  the  Lord.  But  indeed  it  seems 
to  me  that  now  again  there  is  no  death.  His  life  has 
swallowed  it  up. 

"  Do  not  fear  for  me,  '  dark  hours.'  I  think  there  is 
nothing  dark  for  me  henceforth.  I  have  to  do  only 
with  the  present,  and  the  present  is  light  and  rest.  Has 
not  the  everlasting 

'  Morning  spread 
Over  me  her  rich  surprise?' 

"  I  have  no  more  to  ask,  but  that  I  may  be  able  to 
comfort  all  who  mourn  as  I  am  comforted.  If  I  could 
bear  all  sorrow  I  would  be  glad,  because  God  has  turned 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.         95 

for  me  the  silver  lining;  and  for  me  the  darkest  cloud 
has  broken  into  ten  thousand  singing  birds  —  as  I  saw  in 
my  dream  that  I  told  you.  So  in  another  dream  long 
ago,  God  showed  me  a  gold  thread  passing  through  each 
mesh  of  a  black  pall  that  seemed  to  shut  out  the  sun.  I 
comprehend  all  now,  before  I  did  not  doubt.  Now  God 
says  in  soft  thunders,  — 4  Even  so  ! 
"  Your  faithful  friend, 

"  SOPHIA  HAWTHOBSTE." 

Again  the  diary  :  — 

"April  3,  1865.  Forever  memorable!  Our  armies 
entered  Richmond,  —  General  Weitzel,  with  the  colored 
troops  ahead.  The  bells  of  the  little  town  of  Manches 
ter,  where  we  passed  the  afternoon,  were  ringing,  and 
the  sea  and  sky  were  in  unison  with  the  joyous  sounds. 
Returning  home  we  found  Mrs.  Hawthorne  lying  on  the 
couch,  where  she  might  see  the  lovely  sunset  and  moon 
rise  over  the  Charles  River  bay. 

"  .  .  .  *  Carleton '  delivered  to  John  G.  Whittier  be 
hind  c  the  green  curtain '  the  key  of  the  Richmond 
Slave  Prison.  He  saw  fifty  slaves  emancipated  from 
this  den  a  few  days  since."  .  .  . 

April  Wth.  "  Saturday  Club  Dinner.  Mr.  Brownell, 
author  of  '  The  Bay  Fight,'  was  present,  as  Dr.  Holmes's 
guest." 

The  Saturday  Club  was  established  in  the  year 
1857,  and  has  been  maintained  with  unabated 
interest  to  the  present  date,  meeting  on  the  last 
Saturday  of  every  month,  at  two  or  three  o'clock 


96  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

in  the  afternoon,  in  order  to  accommodate  Mr. 
Emerson,  Judge  Hoar,  and  other  out-of-town 
members.  It  is  entirely  social,  and  therefore  of 
necessity  rather  small,  the  whole  number  of  mem 
bers  from  the  beginning  until  now  amounting  to 
but  forty-five  persons.  Whatever  may  be  said  of 
the  lack  of  social  spirit  in  New  England,  this  club 
will  forever  stand  as  a  living  contradiction  to  such 
assertion.  I  believe  there  is  not  a  parallel  in  the 
world  of  such  a  company.  Not  more  proud  of 
each  other's  fame  or  achievement  than  they  are 
attached  to  one  another  by  sincere  confidence  and 
affection,  they  are  enabled  to  speak  freely  when 
together,  upon  the  subjects  affecting  them  most 
nearly.  When  we  consider  the  individual  charac 
ter  of  its  members  and  its  duration,  it  will  remain 
as  an  exponent  of  our  time.  Jealousies,  so  often 
rife  among  men  of  kindred  labors,  have  never 
darkened  these  friendships  or  altered  the  freedom 
of  communication.  Each  member  is  privileged  to 
bring  one  invited  guest,  and  thus  opportunity  is 
made  for  any  distinguished  visitor  who  may  be 
in  our  vicinity  for  coming  face  to  face  with  the 
individuals  who  have  made  New  England  famous. 
Henry  Howard  Brownell,  a  man  of  high  poetic 
gifts,  was  thus  first  introduced  among  his  peers. 
His  talent  had  already  been  recognized  by  Mr.  T. 
B.  Aldrich,  who  has  written  a  beautiful  sonnet  to 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  97 

his  memory,  which  should  be  reproduced  in  any 
mention  of  the  poet. 

HENRY   HOWARD  BROWNELL. 

"  They  never  crowned  him,  never  knew  his  worth, 
But  let  him  go  unlaurelled  to  the  grave: 
Hereafter  there  are  guerdons  for  the  brave, 
Roses  for  martyrs  who  wear  thorns  on  earth, 
Balms  for  bruised  hearts  that  languish  in  the  dearth 
Of  human  love.     So  let  the  lilies  wave 
Above  him,  nameless.     Little  did  he  crave 
Men's  praises.     Modestly,  with  kindly  mirth, 
Not  sad  nor  bitter,  he  accepted  fate  — 

Drank  deep  of  life,  knew  books,  and  hearts  of  men, 

Cities  and  camps,  and  war's  immortal  woe, 
Yet  bore  through  all  (such  virtue  in  him  sate 
His  spirit  is  not  whiter  now  than  then  !) 
A  simple,  loyal  nature,  pure  as  snow." 

The  unrivaled  tribute  by  "  the  Professor  "  in 
the  '  Atlantic  Monthly '  also,  must  not  be  passed 
unmentioned.  It  was  a  generous  and  fitting  rec 
ognition. 

Who  can  forget  having  been  present  at  that 
first  reading  of  "  The  Bay  Fight  "  in  the  Charles 
Street  library  one  evening,  when  Dr.  Holmes 
thrilled  the  little  company  with  his  impassioned 
presentation  of  the  poem ;  from  that  moment  we 
all  felt  that  we  knew  Brownell,  and  whatever  the 
future  should  bring  us  from  him  would  be  of  value 
in  our  eyes. 

7 


98  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

The  diary  says :  — 

"  Brownell's  home  is  in  Connecticut  by  the  sea,  where 
he  lives  with  his  widowed  mother.  He  visits  at  a  few 
houses  only  in  Hartford,  he  says,  but  he  finds  a  fisherman 
by  the  water-side  who  is  blind,  one  J.  H.  (an  excellent 
machinist  also,  and  man  of  affairs),  whom  he  likes  much 
and  whose  companionship  he  often  seeks.  Brownell  has 
a  '  Life  of  Farragut '  under  way,  which  he  thinks  would 
outvie  Southey's  4  Life  of  Nelson,'  if  he  had  eyes  to  fin 
ish  it." 

In  connection  with  Brownell  and  his  proposed 
Life  of  Farragut,  I  find  the  following  extract  from 
the  diary :  — 

"  August,  1865.  Dr.  Townsend  called,  at  whose  house 
Admiral  Farragut  stayed  while  he  was  in  Boston.  The 
Doctor  came,  bearing  a  courteous  message  from  Mrs. 
Farragut,  and  her  thanks  for  a  copy  of  Ticknor's  Life 
of  Prescott.  He  said  he  begun  his  professional  life  as 
surgeon  in  the  United  States  Navy,  and  he  was  upon  the 
same  ship  with  Farragut,  who  was  then  a  midshipman 
fourteen  years  old.  He  was  a  clever,  affectionate  lad, 
whose  observation  nothing  escaped,  and  a  warm  friend 
ship  grew  up  between  them.  The  old  surgeon  remem 
bers  distinctly  often  holding  the  boy  upon  his  knee. 
The  intimacy  between  them  has  never  ceased.  Farragut 
is  a  marvel  of  muscular  and  physical  power.  He  ^s 
sixty  years  old  now,  but  on  his  tour  to  Rye  Beach  a  few 
days  since,  he  repeatedly  walked  up  a  five  barred  gate 
and  stood  upon  the  upper  bar  without  touching  anything. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  99 

His  life  has  been  a  varied  one,  and,   of  course,  of  pro 
found  interest  to  Americans  at  present. 

"  When  the  government  sent  to  beg  his  acceptance  of 
some  prominent  position  with  a  high  salary,  or  the  min 
istry  at  some  foreign  court,  he  declined,  saying  he  wished 
to  die  as  he  had  lived,  in  the  navy.  It  was  then  asked 
what  station  he  would  prefer  and  what  style  of  house,  as 
they  wished  him  to  be  appointed  and  settled  where  he 
liked  best,  but  he  replied,  give  your  positions  and  houses 
to  the  men  who  need  them,  for  they  are  many.  I  am 
well  off,  and  shall  prefer  to  live  simply  and  take  care  of 
myself." 

Mr.  Brownell  became  personally  attached  to  his 
publisher,  and  many  jocose  little  notes  passed  be 
tween  them.  In  one  of  them  he  says  :  — 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  like  dedications.  What 
do  you  think  of  this  one  ?  If  you  approve  it  return  it  to 
me,  and  I  will  send  it  to  the  Admiral,  and  see  if  he  is 
willing  that  it  should  appear.  Tell  me  just  what  you 
think  about  it.  ...  I  am  taking  you  behind  the  scenes 
so  much,  in  our  rehearsal  of  this  piece,  that  I  'm  afraid 
you  will  think  't  is  like  Mr.  Weller's  watch  — '  opens  an 
shows  the  vorks '."  Again  he  writes,  "  I  see  that  you 
are  doing  me  a  kindness  in  a  very  delicate  way.  Accept 
my  sincere  thanks.  I  am  not  above  receiving  a  favor 
from  a  man  like  you." 

"EAST  HARTFORD,  February  28,  1866. 

"  MY  DEAR  FIELDS,  —  By  some  divine  magnetic  in 
stinct,  I  had  already,  two  days  ago,  anticipated  one  of 
your  objections,  and  written  to  you  to  change  the  line  to 


100  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

4  its  breath ; '  so  you  might  let  me  have  my  way  about 
the  other. 

"  Ae  half  the  prayer  wi'  Phoebus  grace  did  find, 
The  tither  half  he  whistled  down  the  wind." 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  '  now  for  it,'  it  was  the  first  line 
written,  and  is  the  very  nucleus  and  key-note  of  the 
piece,  and  is  really  the  only  good  thing  in  it.  '  Be  it 
known  to  you,  Senor  Gil  Bias,'  said  the  Bishop,  4  that  I 
never  composed  a  better  homily  than  the  one  you  ex 
cept  to.' 

"  However,  I  would  alter  it  if  I  could,  since  you  wish 
it,  but  really  don't  see  how. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  the  merest  trifle  after  all,  and  if  it  wont 
go  as  it  is,  send  it  back.  I  shan't  regret  it,  except  that 
it  does  not  please  you,  whom  I  truly  wish  to  please.  .  .  . 

"H.  H.  B." 

December,  1868.  "  Brownell  has  just  returned  from  a 
voyage  to  Europe  in  the  frigate  Franklin  with  Admiral 
Farragut.  He  is  now  forty-eight  years  old.  He  has 
accomplished  only  six  months  traveling  during  his  ab 
sence  of  a  year  and  a  half,  the  rest  of  the  time  being 
passed  in  monotonous  sea-life.  His  vivid  description  of 
ship-board  talk,  long  yarns,  arguments  where  nobody  is 
persuaded ;  tales  of  the  sentry  who  tramped  every  night 
above  his  head  until  he  found  himself  frequently  com 
pelled  to  sit  up  and  meet  the  dawn ;  of  the  wonderful  fall 
of  a  man  through  the  rigging,  one  hundred  and  forty 
feet,  who  recovered  his  perfect  health, — all  these  things 
told  in  his  own  striking  manner,  became  exceedingly  in 
teresting.  Also  his  sense  of  utter  shallowness  under 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  101 

such  circumstances,  though  he  seems  to  have  been  the 
life  of  the  ship  from  his  humanity  and  love  of  literature 
and  fun.  He  was  full  of  appreciation  of  4  Mark  Twain.' 
Presently  he  spoke  of  the  delight  he  experienced  in  find 
ing  himself  on  Shelley's  ground.  Spezzia,  Pisa,  the 
Lido  (where  he  picked  up  shells  as  Shelley  did  with 
Byron),  at  his  grave,  and  the  baths  of  Caracalla.  He 
spoke  of  the  injustice  done  to  Byron ;  of  his  marvelous 
descriptions  ;  how  they  reveled  in  his  words  as  they  stood 
looking  at  Hymettus  which  '  flamed  like  a  white  pillar 
on  the  sky.'  He  was  deeply  moved  at  the  sight  of  our 
copy  of  c  Diogenes  Laertius  ; '  the  one  owned  by  Shelley 
and  Leigh  Hunt.  Brownell  reads  Greek  fluently  ;  in 
deed,  he  has  translated  something  of  Homer,  scholars  say 
remarkably,  into  hexameters.  But  this  work  was  done 
fifteen  years  ago,  and  will  never  be  continued,  he  says. 
.  .  .  There  is  a  pervading  honesty  in  Brownell,  by  which 
you  recognize  his  religion.  A  full  man.  He  has  a  small, 
finely  cut  head." 

The  diary  proceeds :  — 

"Went  to  see  Mrs.  and  Miss  Thoreau.  They  pro 
duced  thirty-two  volumes  of  Henry's  journal  and  a  few 
letters.  Their  idea  is  to  print  the  letters.  .  .  .  Their 
house  was  like  a  conservatory,  it  was  so  filled  with 
plants  in  a  beautiful  condition.  Henry  liked  to  have 
the  doors  thrown  open  that  he  might  look  at  them 
during  his  illness.  .  .  .  Miss  Thoreau  did  not  feel  in 
any  haste  to  find  the  editor  for  her  brother's  journal. 
She  did  not  see  the  man,  she  said,  but  she  thought  he 
would  come." 


102  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Mr.  Fields  had  no  intimate  acquaintance  with 
Henry  Thoreau.  "  I  like  to  see  him  come  in/' 
he  would  say,  "  he  always  smells  of  the  pine 
woods."  The  published  volume  of  Thoreau's  let 
ters  is  selected  with  great  care,  and  I  do  not 
find  anything  new  or  more  important  in  those 
before  me.  We  one  day  went  to  Lexington,  and 
drove  down  to  Bedford  Springs,  five  and  a  half 
miles.  We  found  a  little  lake  there  quiet  and 
full  of  sunshine  in  the  autumnal  afternoon.  The 
keeper  of  the  house  came  to  us  while  standing 
by  the  lake  side  and  offered  to  row  us  about. 
The  man  had  known  Thoreau,  and  we  found 
ourselves  on  Thoreau's  ground.  There  were  the 
houses  for  the  musk-rats  which  he  describes,  and 
the  red  berries  of  the  alder  and  the  purple  asters 
he  loved  so  well.  The  brilliant  trees  and  mov 
ing  clouds  lay  reflected  in  the  lake  as  he  had 
seen  them.  Occasionally  a  hawk  would  glide  over 
on  still  wings,  but  no  human  sounds  were  heard 
until  the  children  came  from  school.  We  were 
delighted  to  watch  some  ducks  in  the  pond.  They 
were  not  wild,  but  they  jumped  into  the  pond  as 
soon  as  they  could  move,  and  had  fed  and  cared 
for  themselves  ever  since.  How  calm  and  peace 
ful  the  scene  was ! 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1863  that  Forceythe 
Willson  first  became  known  as  a  poet.  The  two 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  103 

poems,  "The  Color  Sergeant"  and  "In  State," 
chiefly  gave  him  his  reputation.  One  of  our  emi 
nent  men,  who  first  extended  the  right  hand  to 
that  young  poet,  said,  "  He  is  as  shy  as  Hawthorne, 
and  has  not  learned  that  the  eagle's  wings  should 
sometimes  be  kept  down  as  we  people  who  live  in 
the  world  discover." 

Willson  had  the  singular  power  of  reading  char 
acter  by  the  touch  of  manuscript.  There  was 
something  almost  weird  at  times  in  his  presence 
and  conversation.  He  took  great  pleasure  in  Mr. 
Fields's  cheerful  friendly  character,  and  seemed  to 
draw  near  to  him  as  to  a  protecting  and  befriend 
ing  presence, 

I  give  one  of  his  characteristic  letters :  — 

"CAMBRIDGE,  August  22,  1865. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  Monday  morning  I  promised  myself 
this  should  be  Lazy  Week  —  no  engagements  —  no  work 
—  nothing  positive;  —  that  I  should  drift  and  float,  and 
not  lift  a  hand,  forget  myself  and,  as  much  as  possible, 
everybody  else  (on  the  Mutual  Insurance  principle). 
Next  week  —  if  you  don't  interpose  —  I  '11  be  on  hand 
for  a  tramp  with  you ;  but  out  upon  chaises  and  civili 
ties,  for  I  want  to  ride  a  whale  bareback. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"F.  WILLSON. 

"  N.  B.     I  shall  bring  no  poems." 

In  one  of  his  notes  he  says :  — 


104  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"DEAK  MR.  FIELDS, — Please  draw  your  pencil  along 
the  margin  of  the  intrusive  stanzas,  and  return  me  the 

po ttery.  Your  Friend, 

"  WlLLSON." 

And  again  he  signs  himself  "  Yours  ever 

"  F.  W. 
"  Maker  of  earthen  vessels." 

"  CAMBRIDGE,  August  26,  1865. 

"  MY  DEAK  ME.  FIELDS,  —  When  the  wind  is  south 
erly  I  know  a  hawk  from  a  handsaw ;  and  unless  it  abso 
lutely  rain  on  Thursday  morning  I  shall  come  without 
regard  to  the  weathercock. 

"  Just  this  moment  finished  reading  Lowell's  ode.  4  VI.' 
is  a  good  strophe,  —  the  only  thing  of  decent  proportions 
I  've  seen  on  the  subject  in  verse. 

"  There  has  really  been  no  ode  written  in  English  (that 
I  know  of)  since  Dryden  ;  but  some  of  the  shorter  lines 
in  l  X  '  are  almost  up  to  the  old  strain. 
"  As  for  poems  —  tut  —  tut !  — 

"  (the  gods  have  quit  making  'em  !) 
"  Yours  truly, 

"  F.  WlLLSON." 

Mr.  Fields  was  a  warm  friend  of  Charles 
Sprague,  who  one  day  told  him  an  incident  relat 
ing  to  the  composition  of  his  fine  Shakespeare 
Ode,  which  should  not  be  forgotten.  Mr.  Fields 
had  mentioned  one  passage  which  he  thought  es 
pecially  good,  the  one  descriptive  of  the  murder. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  105 

"  Ah  I  "  said  Mr.  Sprague,  "  how  well  I  remember  the 
day  I  wrote  that.  I  was  keeping  a  grocer's  shop  on  Tre- 
mont  Row  at  the  time.  It  was  a  cold,  stormy  winter's 
day  and  I  was  alone  in  the  shop  sitting  over  a  sheet-iron 
stove.  I  had  just  reached  this  passage  and  was  hoping 
nobody  would  come  in,  when  a  man  opened  the  door  and 
asked  for  a  quart  of  train-oil.  Well,  sir,  I  filled  his  ves 
sel  for  him  and  handed  it  back,  and  then,  my  hands  reek 
ing  with  train-oil,  I  finished  that  passage." 

The  diary  continues :  — 

"  One  of  the  printing  offices  in  revolt,  which  compli 
cates 'Atlantic' responsibilities,  and  as  for  disappointed 
authors !  they  seem  to  hedge  us  in  and  shake  their 
threatening  beards." 

"  Went  to  get  a  few  oysters  for  lunch.  The  oyster- 
man  lay  down  his  guitar,  upon  which  he  had  been  impro 
vising,  and  began  to  pry  open  the  bivalves,  singing  as  he 
pried,  '  I  call  thy  spirit  back  to  earth  ! ' 

"  Note  from ,  thanking  the  editor  for  his  frank 
ness  in  telling  him  his  poem  was  bad,  but  disagreeing 
with  his  opinion  !  " 

During  these  years  I  find  references  to  the 
constant  increase  of  business  responsibilities.  A 
weekly  journal  was  started  called  the  "  Every 
Saturday,"  which  gave  the  firm  a  quarterly, 
monthly,  weekly,  and  juvenile  magazine.  The  re 
sult  was,  that  ultimate  decisions  on  a  large  variety 
of  matters  were  referred  to  Mr.  Fields.  In  the 
diary  he  says :  — 


106  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  An  overwhelming  week.  Affairs  crowd  until  it  be 
comes  impossible  to  accomplish  what  should  be  done. 
The  sight  of  a  manuscript  is  like  a  sword-fish  now-a-days, 
—  it  cuts  me  in  two." 

Again,  — 

"  A   most  fatiguing  day.     Numberless   persons    with 

books  which  must  be  refused ;  among  others ,  who 

was  full  of  grief,  therefore  it  was  harder  to  say  '  No.' 
Beside  his  book  is  a  good  one ;  .  .  .  but  Ticknor  & 
Fields  have  too  many  books  already  to  make  it  best  to 
accept  anything  new  at  present." 

The  first  letter  I  find  from  Mr.  Bryant  is  dated 
shortly  before  this  period  and  the  friendly  corre 
spondence  remained  unbroken  until  his  death. 
He  writes  in  1864  :  — 

"  DEAR  MR.  FIELDS,  —  I  send  you  a  poem  for  the 
4  Atlantic.'  Ask  me  for  no  more  verses.  A  septuage 
narian  has  past  the  time  when  it  is  becoming  for  him  to 
occupy  himself  with 

**  The  rhymes  and  rattles  of  the  man  and  boy.11 

Pope  was  twenty  years  younger  than  I  am,  when  he  said 
to  Bolingbroke ,  — 

1  Why  wilt  thou  break  the  Sabbath  of  my  days  ?  ' 
and, 

*  Public  too  long,  ah,  let  me  hide  my  age/ 

Uhland,  who  died  in  his  seventy-sixth  year,  did  not  in  the 
last  twenty  years,  or  twenty-five,  was  it  ?  add  a  hundred 
lines  to  his  published  verses.  Nobody  in  the  years  after 
seventy  can  produce  anything  in  poetry  except  the  thick 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  107 

and  muddy  last  runnings  of  the  cask  from  which  all  the 
clear  and  sprightly  liquor  has  been  already  drawn." 

Again  in  1867,  he  writes  from  Boslyn,  Long 
Island  :  — 

"  DEAR,  MR.  FIELDS,  —  It  would  give  me  great  pleas 
ure  to  be  a  guest  at  your  dinner  next  week  and  to  testify 
my  admiration  of  the  writings  of  Mr.  Longfellow,  in  par 
ticular  of  his  translation  of  Dante,  but  for  the  occupa 
tions  in  which  I  am  now  engaged  and  I  must  say,  also, 
the  habit  of  seclusion,  incident  to  my  time  of  life,  and 
gaining  strength  as  I  grow  older.  Allow  me  to  plead 
these  as  my  excuse  for  not  coming  to  the  dinner  to  which 
you  have  so  kindly  invited  me.  Meantime  I  take  this 
opportunity  to  express  in  words  what  my  presence  could 
not  express  more  emphatically.  Mr.  Longfellow  has 
translated  Dante  as  a  great  poet  should  be  translated. 
After  this  version,  no  other  will  be  attempted  until  the 
present  form  of  the  English  language  shall  have  become 
obsolete,  for  whether  we  regard  fidelity  to  the  sense, 
aptness  in  the  form  of  expression,  or  the  skilful  trans 
fusion  of  the  poetic  spirit  of  the  original  into  the  phrases 
of  another  language,  we  can  look  for  nothing  more  per 
fect.  It  is  fitting  that  Mr.  Longfellow's  friends  should 
congratulate  him,  as  I  heartily  do,  on  the  successful  com 
pletion  of  his  great  task. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  very  truly  yours 

"  W.  C.  BRYANT. 

"JAMES  T.  FIELDS,  ESQ." 

This  letter  refers  to  the  dinner  planned  by 
Mr.  Fields  and  given  by  "  the  firm  "  in  honor  of 


108  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

the  completion  of  Mr.  Longfellow's  translation  of 
Dante.  The  Dante  Festival,  as  it  was  called,  be 
cause  it  was  given  on  the  six  hundredth  anniver 
sary  of  Dante's  birth,  was  a  beautiful  and  success 
ful  occasion.  Mr.  Bryant's  absence  was  regretted, 
but  there  was  a  full  company  of  "  Kepresentative 
Men." 

Again,  Mr.  Bryant  writes  in  1871 :  — 

"I  ca,ii  no  more  get  up  the  necessary  excitement  for 
writing  a  poem  at  the  present  time  than  I  can  go  back 
to  the  days  of  my  youth.  I  have  the  Odyssey  on  hand, 
which  takes  up  most  of  my  leisure ;  then  there  is  the 
1  Evening  Post,'  which  I  cannot  neglect,  and  other  matters, 
small  in  themselves,  but  numerous,  the  effect  of  which  is 
to  load  me  with  so  many  petty  tasks,  and  keep  me  fuss 
ing  so,  that  I  sometimes  feel  what  used  to  be  called, 
when  people  had  no  scruple  about  using  a  Latin  word 
now  and  then,  —  tedium  vitce.  So  you  see  that  you  ask 
what  is  as  impossible  as  if  you  were  to  wait  a  few  years 
and  ask  it  of  my  tombstone. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  very  truly  yours, 

"W.  C.  BKYANT." 

"  NEW  YORK,  April  25,  1871. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  FIELDS,  —  There  was  no  need  that 
you  should  exhort  me  to  be  diligent  in  putting  the  Odys 
sey  into  English  blank  verse.  I  have  been  as  industrious 
as  was  reasonable.  I  understand  very  well  that  at  my 
time  of  life  such  enterprises  are  apt  to  be  brought  to  a 
conclusion  before  they  are  finished,  and  I  have  therefore 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  109 

wrought  harder  upon  my  task  than  some  of  my  friends 
thought  was  well  for  me.  I  have  already  sent  forward 
the  manuscript  for  the  first  volume.  You  may  remember 
that  I  finished  my  translation  of  the  Iliad  within  the 
time  that  I  undertook,  and  this  would  have  been  done 
without  any  urging.  In  the  case  of  the  Odyssey  I  have 
finished  the  first  volume  two  months  sooner  than  I  prom 
ised. 

44 1  do  not  think  the  Odyssey  the  better  part  of  Homer 
except  morally.  The  gods  set  a  better  example  and  take 
more  care  to  see  that  wrong  and  injustice  are  discouraged 
among  mankind.  But  there  is  not  the  same  spirit  and 
fire,  nor  the  same  vividness  of  description,  and  this  the 
translator  must  feel  as  strongly  as  the  reader.  Let  me 
correct  what  I  have  already  said,  by  adding,  that  there  is 
yet  in  the  Odyssey  one  more  advantage  over  the  Iliad. 
It  is  better  as  a  story.  In  the  Iliad  the  plot  is  to  me  un 
satisfactory  —  and  there  is  besides  a  monotony  of  car 
nage —  you  get  a  surfeit  of  slaughter.  .  .  ." 

The  following  brief  extracts  from  the  diary  giv 
ing  a  sketch  of  Mr.  Bryant  in  his  own  beautiful 
home  at  Roslyn,  may  not  be  out  of  place :  — 

"  June^  1871.  Last  night  Mr.  Bryant  met  us  in  the 
train  for  Roslyn.  He  is  nearly  eighty  years  old,  hale 
and  strong,  his  intellect  clear  as  ever.  He  showed  us 
Long  Island  with  pride,  as  having  a  kind  of  ownership 
in  the  whole  place  apart  from  his  actual  possession.  His 
influence  has  been  incalculable  in  the  proper  planting 
and  civilizing  of  the  whole  district.  He  pointed  out  the 
farm  where  Cobbett  lived  and  wrote  his  book  upon 


110  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

American  Agriculture ;  the  plains  where  the  Indians  cut 
off  the  trees  —  where  the  railroad  now  runs  ;  indicated 
the  growth  of  towns,  Jamaica  especially,  which  was  a 
very  small  place  twenty-five  years  before  when  he  came 
to  Roslyn.  ...  In  the  morning  Mr.  Bryant  walked  to 
the  village  for  the  mail,  and  we  wandered  about  the  place 
rejoicing  in  the  beauty  of  the  trees  and  flowers.  Every 
thing  in  the  way  of  foliage  contrasts  strongly  with  our 
own  rugged  shores  of  Massachusetts.  .  .  .  Wandered 
into  the  library.  The  broad  window  where  the  poet's 
table  stood  overlooked  the  garden  with  its  white  lilies 
and  the  lake  below.  The  Odyssey,  opened  at  the  four 
teenth  book,  lay  upon  the  table,  where  he  had  already 
been  at  work  in  the  early  morning.  It  was  the  library 
of  a  student  and  scholar." 

In  the  spring  of  1863  Mr.  Fields  found  a  com 
fortable  farm-house  on  a  hillside  in  Campton,  N.  H., 
about  a  mile  from  that  village,  where  during  sev 
eral  consecutive  years  he  "  met  the  spring  "  and 
rested  in  absolute  retirement.  There  was  no  rail 
road  nearer  than  the  town  of  Plymouth,  eight 
miles  distant,  over  a  sandy  and  difficult  road,  and 
no  post-office  nearer  than  the  village  of  Camp- 
ton,  whither  the  mail  was  brought  by  an  express 
wagon,  which  was  a  whole  long  day  toiling  be 
tween  Plymouth  and  that  place.  But  for  one  who 
loved  the  country  as  he  did,  to  whom  the  green 
growing  things  were  a  constant  joy,  who  reveled 
in  them  always  as  children  do, — not  like  a  botanist, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  Ill 

or  an  astronomer,  or  story-writer,  or  thinker,  and 
still  less  like  a  man  of  business,  or  an  editor,  —  but 
going  out  to  play,  finding  wild  roses,  or  columbine, 
or  pimpernel,  whatever  it  might  be,  and  bringing 
it  home,  forever  guiltless  of  the  Latin  name,  like 
a  conqueror,  as  if  it  were  just  created ;  to  one 
who  loves  nature  in  this  way  she  is  sufficient ;  she 
takes  him  to  herself  and  gives  him  rest  on  many  a 
green  pillow. 

He  was  never  tired  of  going  to  New  Hampshire. 
"  They  are  my  native  hills,  you  know,"  he  would 
say  half  in  excuse,  and  although  the  climate  of 
Campton  itself  did  not  suit  him  he  continued  to 
go  thither  for  many  years. 

The  following  notes  of  the  life  there  will  give 
some  idea  of  his  love  of  country  enjoyments. 

"  June  7th.  Raining  like  a  day  in  April ;  began  our 
walks  before  breakfast.  The  ferns  are  only  half  awak 
ened  and  the  wayside  is  blue  with  violets.  The  hermit 
thrush  and  robins  are  busy  enough.  What  the  farmers 
call  'real  growin'  weather.'  Mad  River  bridge  is  un 
safe.  They  say  here  4the  buttonments'  are  weak.  The 
ford  too  is  impassable  from  the  heavy  rains.  Read  Nie- 
buhr's  letters  aloud,  also  the  memoirs  of  Lord  Herbert 
of  Cherbury.  The  only  external  excitement  is  when 
the  country  wagons  pass  up  and  down  the  road  to  and 
from  Plymouth.  .  .  .  Heard  the  Peabody  bird  here  for 
the  first  time.  .  .  . 

"Sunday  —  Went  to  the  village  church.     The  sermon 


112  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

was  not  unsuited  to  the  bearers,  and  the  service  was 
earnest  and  interesting.  In  the  afternoon  climbed  to 
the  very  top  of  Willey's  Hill.  We  saw  the  sun  go 
down  while  still  near  the  summit.  What  an  even 
ing  !  The  streams  are  fuller  than  we  have  seen  them 
before." 

"June  11.  Drove  to  Sanborn's  Inn,  and  wandered 
about  in  the  sunshine  all  the  afternoon.  Two  boys  were 
fishing  for  trout  in  a  full  blue  pond  near  by,  where  logs 
were  floating.  We  sat  on  one  of  the  logs  near  to  the 
brink,  and  watched  their  agility  in  springing  from  one 
to  another,  with  utter  fearlessness  of  slipping.  '  No 
trout  yet,'  they  said,  in  answer  to  our  inquiries.  Drove 
to  Farmer  A.'s.  Met  him  just  below  his  house.  He 
walked  by  the  side  of  the  wagon,  talking.  Such  a  place ! 
It  was  a  Paradise.  The  mountains  opened  before  us,  the 
meadow  and  river  lay  below.  What  a  magnificent  resi 
dence  this  would  be !  Comparing  favorably  in  natural 
features  with  the  finest  the  world  can  show.  .  .  .  Think 
of  it :  a  patriarchal  domain  at  an  expense  of  one  hundred 
and  eighty  dollars  a  year ! 

"  June  12.  Went  up  to  the  W.'s  farm  on  the  hill 
side.  There  is  no  road  leading  there ;  only  a  grassy 
lane.  Found  the  farmer  hoeing  his  corn  thoughtfully  on 
the  hillside.  He  believed  there  would  be  frost  to-night. 
The  northwest  wind  was  blowing  lustily  over  the  young 
shoots,  and  it  was  quite  cold.  At  the  door  of  the  cot 
tage  the  mother  greeted  us  joyfully.  We  went  in  to  see 
her  sick  daughter.  .  .  . 

"  The  green  hills  stretch  up  behind  the  cottage,  and 
slope  down  in  front  of  it,  and  the  solitude  is  undisturbed. 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  113 

The  lilacs  were  waving  in  the  sunshine  as  we  left  the 
sick  girl ;  the  birds  were  hovering  about  the  door,  sun 
shine  and  health  were  everywhere  without,  —  pain  and 
fading  were  within.  .  .  . 

"  In  the  afternoon  walked  to  Farmer  G.'s,  and  came 
home  through  '  June  Avenue '  (he  christened  all  the 
walks  and  drives  and  climbs  during  these  visits).  Farm 
er  G.  said  his  taxes  were  very  heavy,  equal  to  fifty  dol 
lars  a  year,  all  told,  but  then  '  't  was  wuth  somethin'  to 
live  in  the  village  of  Campton ! ' 

"  Last  night  Don  Santiago  Duello  arrived  in  Camp- 
ton,  '  the  world-renowned  contortionist.'  The  people 
said  this  morning  he  did  all  he  said  he  would,  and  they 
had  their  '  money's  worth.'  Seeing  him  drive  away,  Mr. 
Fields  said,  '  A  more  decayed,  miserable  set  than  the 
44  Don  "  in  his  buggy,  .  .  .  his  wife  and  child  and  baby 
and  rattletraps,  which  preceded  him,  could  not  easily 
be  conceived.' 

44  June  15.  Hills  veiled,  —  rain,  rain,  rain.  Later,  — 
thick  fog,  and  signs  of  clearing.  Finished  Massey's  book 
on  Shakespeare's  sonnets  ;  read  Mozart's  letters  in  the 
evening.  Walked  many  miles  ;  visited  the  school-house  ; 
was  interested  in  the  teacher,  a  lame  girl,  with  a  passion 
for  study.  She  intends  going  next  year  to  the  Seminary 
at  South  Hadley  ;  earns  about  three  dollars  and  a  half  a 
week,  besides  her  board,  while  teaching  here.  Has  for 
ty-two  scholars.  These  people  pick  up  much  of  the 
knowledge  they  possess  from  experience.  Mr.  Fields 
asked,  4  how  old  is  the  school-house  ?  '  *  Well,  I  can't 
tell  ye  exackly,  but  I  helped  to  take  up  the  old  fence 
the  other  day,  and  the  oak-posts  was  rotten  ;  naow  it 
8 


114  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

takes  jest  twelve  years  for  oak-posts  to  begin  to  rot,  so 
it  must  have  been  built  twelve  years  at  least.' 

"  The  air  is  filled  with  a  chorus  of  birds.  We  strain 
our  ears  to  listen,  and,  as  far  as  sound  can  travel,  there 
are  the  birds'  voices  calling  to  each  other  in  the  silence. 
The  sun  warms  us  through ;  soft  white  clouds  come 
upon  the  sky  to  break  the  fierceness  of  the  sudden 
heat,  ferns  unroll,  the  trees  are  odorous,  — 
"  '  All  the  world  is  gay.' 

"  Found  the  linnaea  in  bloom.  Drove  to  K.  Hill ; 
asked  the  younger  daughter  of  the  house  to  accompany 
us,  and  climbed  the  height.  The  hill-top  was  like  a 
baronial  park  of  perfect  maple  trees.  We  found  a 
mighty  sugar-house  there,  with  two  hundred  buckets 
and  huge  pans,  suggesting  plenty  of  sweet  spoil.  4  How 
dull  it  looks  here  now,'  said  the  girl.  <  In  sugar  time 
it  is  lovely  !  The  snow  is  on  the  ground,  but  the  air 
at  mid-day  is  not  very  cold  at  the  season  we  generally 
choose.  It  is  real  pleasant  going  up  to  the  sugar-house 
then.' 

"  We  climbed  to  the  very  top,  and,  sitting  on  moss 
thick  as  a  good  sponge,  looked  off  upon  Moose  Hillock, 
and  down  into  the  Franconia  Notch,  over  the  winding, 
glancing  beauty  of  the  Pemigewasset,  with  the  fertile 
meadows.  Upwards  of  a  hundred  sheep  were  nibbling 
on  the  near  hills  belonging  to  the  K.'s ;  saw  also  oxen 
and  cattle  and  a  large  orchard  of  apple  and  pear  trees. 

"  These  people  are  proud  as  the  lords  of  old,  but 
they  need  assistance  in  their  labors,  and,  failing  this, 
their  whole  farm  life  is,  in  one  sense,  a  failure.  They 
overwork,  and  neither  attain  their  ends  nor  enjoy  their 
lives. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  115 

"June  16.  Walked  over  the  hills  before  breakfast. 
Startled  a  cow,  who  gave  quite  a  human  jump  of  as 
tonishment. 

"  PLYMOUTH,  N.  H.  (en  route  for  Campton),  June, 
1868.  Sunday  —  Passed  the  morning  on  the  piazza  of  a 
deserted  house  on  the  hill-top  overlooking  the  town. 
The  whole  Franconia  range  in  sight.  Whittier  was  our 
companion  (in  pocket  form  this  time).  It  was  a  heavenly 
season.  Mr.  Fields  told  me  he  dreamed  last  night  that 
L.  had  returned  to  pass  a  few  hours  with  him.  They 
talked  very  fast,  there  was  so  much  to  be  said,  and  yet 
when  he  asked  about  the  honors  conferred  on  the  banks 
of  the  Cam,  or  the  public  demonstrations,  L.  would  only 
laugh,  with  a  characteristic  gesture,  and  say  nothing. 
He  talked  incessantly  of  the  loveliness  of  England,  of  the 
lake  district  in  particular,  while  he  hummed  from  time 
to  time  the  refrain  of  a  poem.  c  I  know  you  have  writ 
ten  something  to  show  me,'  said  Mr.  Fields.  '  You 
would  never  have  come  without  that.'  Then  L.  took 
out  a  short  poem  ;  but  they  soon  fell  again  into  talk ; 
this  time  about  C.  D.'s  house  where  L.  is  now  staying. 
4  It  is  perfect,'  said  L. ;  4  you  cannot  hear  the  wheels  go 
round.' 

"  CAMPTON,  July  2.  One  of  the  farmers  amuses  us 
by  talking  of  sidlm"1  land,  meaning  hilly. 

"July  3.  Very,  very  warm.  The  morning  clear  and 
of  unspeakable  beauty.  We  read  '  Comus  '  before  break 
fast.  The  thrushes  sing  plenteously  and  life  is  harmoni 
ous,  silent,  and  apart.  How  far  apart  it  seems,  indeed, 
after  such  close  contact  with  it  as  we  have  had ! 

"  July  4.    Hot,  hot.    The  trees  stand  motionless.    Mr. 


116  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Fields  could  do  nothing  yesterday  afternoon  but  watch 
the  cloud  scenery,  which  was  marvelous  in  its  beauty. 

Ut7wn£,  1872.  A  splendid  vision  upon  the  mountains 
at  sunset,  and  a  rainbow  in  the  east.  We  shall  remem 
ber  this  sunset,  with  the  scene  at  Interlachen. 

"  In  the  morning  the  atmosphere  like  crystal  and  de- 
liciously  melodious  and  fragrant.  Read  Spenser's  '  Fae 
ry  Queen  '  aloud  in  the  evening. 

"  June  20.  Roses  in  torrents.  Climbed  the  hill  to 
wards  night  and  saw  a  tree  cut  down,  —  a  hemlock.  He 
fell  solemnly  at  last,  and  then  only  a  short  distance, 
being  upheld  by  his  fellows.  Finally  he  was  dragged 
down  disgracefully  by  his  hair.  The  squirrels  ran  for 
it!" 

One  of  the  pleasures  of  this  period  of  Mr.  Fields's 
life  was  his  acquaintance,  nay  friendship,  with  Mr. 
Agassiz,  and  any  record  would  be  incomplete  which 
failed  to  recall  the  delightful  hours  passed  in  his 
society.  "  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  Club  to-day?  " 
"  Yes,  Agassiz  was  there  !  "  — was  often  the  answer 
heard  from  his  lips.  The  glimpses  here  of  their 
association  must  be  of  the  briefest,  for  every  rea 
son,  but  such  memories  are  too  precious  to  be 
omitted  and  allowed  to  perish  altogether.  Agas 
siz  was  so  beloved  by  all  who  knew  him,  and  all 
who  knew  Fields  loved  him  so,  different  as  they 
were,  that  I  can  but  recall  in  tbis  relation  a  pas 
sage  from  the  writings  of  Lacordaire.  He  says,  in 
speaking  of  Ozanam :  — 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  117 

"  C'est  un  rare  secret  que  celui  de  la  popularity,  j 'en- 
tends  la  popularite  veritable,  celle  qui  ne  s'achete  point 
par  de  laches  concessions  aux  erreurs  d'un  siecle,  mais 
qui  entoure  d'une  aureole  pre'mature'e  1'honnete  homrne 
vivant.  .  .  .  Toutes  les  conditions  remplies,  il  n'est  pas 
impossible  qu'un  homme  echappe  a  la  popularity,  si 
quelque  chose  de  bienveillant  ne  tempere  en  lui  la  force 
du  caractere  et  n'abaisse  la  hauteur  du  genie.  C'est  la 
bonte'  qui  rend  Dieu  populaire,  et  I'homme  a  qui  elle 
manque  n'obtiendra  jamais  1'amour." 

In  1866  Mr.  Fields  one  day  accompanied  a 
young  English  gentleman  to  Agassiz'  Museum. 
They  found  the  Professor  hard  at  work,  his  hands 
in  oil,  fishes,  and  alcohol.  "  How  sad  for  a  natu 
ralist  to  grow  old,"  he  said.  "  I  see  so  much  to  be 
done  which  I  can  never  complete."  The  stranger 
had  brought  with  him  specimens  or  drawings  from 
Professor  Huxley  for  Mr.  Agassiz.  He  was  at  once 
cordially  received  and  invited  to  lunch  with  him 
the  following  day. 

Again,  from  the  diary  :  — 

"  Mr.  Fields  received  a  call  to-day  from  our  consul  at 
Mauritius,  who  has  brought  to  Boston  two  skeletons  of 
the  Dodo,  the  extinct  bird  of  that  island.  The  consul  is 
anxious  to  see  Mr.  Agassiz.  It  is  said  there  are  no  other 
complete  skeletons.  He  suspected  the  possibility  of  their 
existence  in  a  certain  tract  of  marshy  ground,  and  sent 
the  natives  in  nearly  to  their  necks  in  mud  and  water  to 
feel  about.  After  a  time  they  struck  these  bones,  with 


118  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

which  he  returned  at  once  to  New  England,  being  con 
vinced  of  their  value  as  belonging  to  the  real  Dodo.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Agassiz  seems  to  have  enjoyed  the  4  Dodo  '  bones. 
They  are  not  perfect,  but  valuable  notwithstanding,  and 
the  best  we  have  in  America.  Mr.  Fields  asked  him  if 
the  4Dodo'  was  good  to  eat!  4Yes,  indeed;  what  a  pity 
we  could  not  have  the  Dodo  at  our  Club!  A  good  din 
ner  is  humanity's  greatest  blessing.  What  a  pity  !  But 
the  Dutchmen  carried  a  ship  with  rats  to  Mauritius  who 
sucked  the  fine  eggs,  as  large  as  a  loaf,  and  everybody 
found  the  bird  so  good  they  did  eat  him,  so  he  has  be 
come  extinct.  We  know  of  but  one  other  bird  of  recent 
date  who  has  become  extinct,  —  the  Great  Northern  Auk. 
The  Bishop  of  Newfoundland  did  send  rne  his  bones, — 
a  treasure  indeed.' " 

New  specimens  overflowed  from  every  side.  His 
plans  grew  in  proportion,  and  their  only  chance  of 
fulfilment  seemed  to  be  in  the  continuous  labor 
of  those  nearest  him  who  could  further  the  details 
of  his  great  work. 

Agassiz'  friendship  for  and  appreciation  of  Pro 
fessor  Pierce  were  always  manifest  when  occasion 
offered.  One  day  an  album  was  produced  in  which 
Pierce  had  inscribed  a  half  leaf  about  the  stars  and 
the  far-reaching  power  of  the  mind  of  man  tran 
scending  the  limits  of  the  spheres.  The  passage 
was  most  impressive  in  its  eloquence.  Agassiz  was 
delighted,  crying,  "  Do  you  hear  !  That  is  Ben ! 
Who  but  Ben  could  do  that !  It  is  enough  to  say 
that." 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  119 

In  1868  a  private  dinner  was  given  to  Mr. 
Longfellow  upon  his  departure  for  Europe.  Mr. 
Agassiz  was  present.  Some  one  expressed  a  strong 
desire  to  see  the  Nile.  "Ah!  "  said  Agassiz,  "I, 
too,  long  to  see  the  Nile,  but  because  I  wish  to 
study  the  fishes  in  it !  "  He  sustained  a  hearty 
struggle  with  a  Darwinite  at  the  table,  but  was 
equally  full  of  science  and  of  fun.  His  gayety 
and  tenderness  were  unusual  even  for  him.  It 
was  on  a  subsequent  occasion  that  he  described 
the  Brazilian  woodland,  where  he  had  seen  one 
hundred  and  twenty-seven  different  kinds  of  wood 
growing  within  the  space  of  a  half  mile ;  also  the 
splendor  of  the  red  passion-flower  shut  in  by  the 
dark  green  of  the  forest,  green  so  dark  that  it  is 
black. 

A  most  interesting  gathering  of  the  Saturday 
Club  came  together  to  welcome  him  upon  his  re 
turn  from  Brazil.  On  that  occasion  he  is  remem 
bered  as  seizing  Dr.  Holmes  in  his  arms  and 
taking  him  quite  off  his  feet  in  the  warmth  of  his 
embrace.  He  spoke  there  also  of  the  greatness 
of  Brazil,  of  her  glorious  woodlands ;  and  described 
the  Brazilian  ants  as  swarming  into  the  houses 
and  remaining  for  three  days  at  a  time,  forcing 
the  family  meanwhile  to  move  away ;  said  he  had 
counted  one  hundred  and  forty-eight  varieties  of 
wood,  whereas  in  New  England  we  have  only 


120  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

about  fifty ;  and  spoke  of  the  vast  room  for  en 
terprise  in  such  a  land  where  not  a  sawmill  was 
then  in  existence.  He  enlarged  also  upon  the 
distinguished  intelligence  of  the  Emperor,  and 
mentioned  his  intended  visit  to  this  country. 
Agassiz  accompanied  Longfellow  and  Fields  as  far 
as  Lynn  after  the  dinner.  As  they  looked  from 
the  windows  of  the  car  into  the  moon-lighted 
landscape,  Fields  asked  if  that  scene  were  not  as 
beautiful  as  anything  Brazil  could  offer.  "Ah!  " 
was  the  reply,  "I  was  just  reflecting  how  sterile 
was  the  appearance  of  New  England  after  the  lux 
uriant  beauty  of  Brazil."  He  was  sadly  troubled 
to  find  the  "  old  hack  politicians  "  whom  he  hoped 
the  war  had  slain,  corning  out  again  in  renewed 
force. 

The  diary  continues  :  — 

"  Mr.  Agassiz  often  seems  to  have  left  half  his  heart 
with  his  work  when  he  is  away  from  it,  except  when  he 
is  like  a  child  running  over  with  fun  and  frolic.  ...  It 
was  after  Mr.  Whipple's  fine  lecture  on  'Bacon'  that 
some  one  fell  to  discoursing  about  imagination.  c  Let  us 
stop  here,'  said  Agassiz,  '  we  each  define  imagination  dif 
ferently.  Imagination  is  to  me  the  perfect  conception  of 
truth  which  some  minds  attain,  of  what  cannot  be  proved 
through  the  senses.  For  instance,  the  planet  Jupiter  is 
so  many  miles  from  us,  it  has  a  certain  determined  size, 
and  certain  peculiarities.  The  mind  that  can  compre 
hend  and  use  this  knowledge  as  clearly  as  if  the  senses 
had  touched  the  planet,  that  mind  has  imagination.' " 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  121 

Mr.  Fields  asked  him  at  one  of  these  gather 
ings  if  he  thought  man  ever  would  draw  nearer 
to  the  mystery  of  birth  and  death.  "  I  am  sure 
he  will,"  was  his  reply,  "  the  time  will  come  when 
all  these  things  will  be  made  as  clear  as  this  table 
now  spread  before  us." 

Three  Scotch  professors  were  the  guests  at  the 
Saturday  Club  of  August,  1871,  and  it  was  pro 
posed  that  Walter  Scott  should  be  remembered  as 
if  it  were  his  birthday.  Agassiz  presided,  and  the 
matter  in  hand  seemed  likely  to  be  forgotten. 
Fields  recalled  the  subject  for  the  day  to  the 
president.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said,  "  my  dear 
Fields,  I  had  entirely  forgotten  it.  I  have  been 
busily  discussing  scientific  subjects  with  my  friend 
here.  I  ought  also  to  confess  to  this  company 
that  I  have  read  only  one  of  the  novels  of  Walter 
Scott,  that  is  ( Ivanhoe  ' ;  but  if  God  please,  before 
my  death  I  will  read  two  more.  My  time  is 
always  much  occupied  in  other  directions,  and  it 
was  not  until  I  came  to  this  country  that  1  read 
even  '  Ivanhoe/  ' 

This  pleasant  bit  of  autobiographical  confession 
opened  the  hearts  of  all  present  and  the  talk  which 
followed  was  of  unusual  interest. 

I  recall  two  memorable  opportunities  of  the  en 
joyment  of  Agassiz'  peculiar  eloquence,  an  elo 
quence  not  to  be  outshone ;  one  a  social  meeting 


BIOGRAPHICAL  .VOTES 

rhen  he  described  die  action  of 
the  surface  of  North  America:  the 
other  a  public  discourse  aaoa  naliijiafUjj.  Hie j 
are  never  to  be  forgotten,  and  were  appreciated 
by  none  mc«ancaely  than  by  the  "cfcar  spirit" 

r.  1S73.  the  diary  aMJiaam:  — 
is  very  fll —  probably  dying.     What 
world  it  wffl  be  to  us  without  him. 
Soch  a  rich,  expansive,  lo\ing  nature.     The  Sat 
urday  Club  wffl  feel  this  to  be  their  severest 

From  his  emifajt  jean  Mr.  Fields  had  been  a 
later  of  die  Iniliinaii  art.  I  hate  already  re 
ferred  to  the  opportunities  afforded  him  for  seeing 
the  best  acting  while  he  was  still  a  youth,  and  it 
was  a  taste  fostered  in  his  later  years.  He  was 
not,  in  die  common  acceptation  of  the  term,  a 

•he*  he  aai  not  jaelet  his  own  library  to  the 
in  any  dieatre,  hut  when  those  occasions 
?  Charies  Dickens  Ufed  to  say  of 
an  audience  "  in  himselL     He 


done,  the  difficulties  to  be  surmoimted 

to^•     ii  •  «!•.  11  •!  an    m      Anvr 
-------  "     --  '  '     -'- 

-ce  achieved  he  was  among  the  fir-t  to 
pay  tribute  to  the  artist.     His  knowledge  <rf  the 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  123 

literature  of  the  stage  was  wide  and  accurate, 
and  as  Charles  Lamb  said  of  the  fat  woman  sitting 
in  the  door-way,  "  it  was  a  shrewd  zephyr  that 
could  escape  her,"  so  it  was  a  shrewd  slip  of  the 
text,  accent,  rhythm,  pronunciation,  which  could 
escape  his  keen  observation  and  memory.  The 
artists  themselves  were  the  first,  of  course,  to  rec 
ognize  such  an  audience,  and  the  almost  universal 
tribute  of  their  friendship  was  one  of  the  pleas 
ures  of  his  life.  Many  members  of  the  profes 
sion  will  recall  happy  hours  passed  under  his  roof, 
but  of  two  or  three  of  the  most  eminent  who  have 
gone  from  us,  a  brief  record  has  been  preserved, 
I  have  already  spoken  of  Mrs.  Mowatt  and  of  Char 
lotte  Cushman. 

Among  Mr.  Fields's  letters  from  one  of  the  most 
famous  of  our  living  actors,  I  find  the  following 
sentence  of  pathetic  significance  :  "  Any  notice  of 
any  actor  now-a-days,  which  is  assuredly  both  un 
solicited  and  unpaid  for,  is  a  refreshing  rarity,  and 
deserves  a  place  in  the  most  important  part  of 
(  our  shop/  among  the  cur iosi ties. " 

We  believe  the  day  is  happily  past  for  neglect 
either  of  artistic  painstaking  or  artistic  success. 
In  Mr.  Fields's  opinion,  both  painstaking  and  suc 
cess  upon  the  stage  demanded  the  same  recogni 
tion  that  these  qualities  demand  in  any  other 
sphere  of  art.  But  his  enjoyment  of  the  society 


124  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

of  actors  was  quite  apart  from  any  such  reasoning. 
Nature  first,  and  afterward  the  business  of  the  ac 
tor's  life,  has  caused  the  entertainment  of  others 
to  become  his  study.  "  Going  to  the  play,"  means 
"  a  good  time,"  and  rest  to  the  careworn.  Any 
human  being  who  has  learned  the  science  of  en 
tertaining,  has  indeed  possessed  himself  of  a  beau 
tiful  gift.  Many  a  dark  mood  may  be  cheated 
out  of  existence  by  this  fine  science.  And  it  was 
a  gift  which  always  gave  Mr.  Fields  an  exquisite 
pleasure  to  see  exercised.  It  would  be  a  vain  task 
to  mention  the  names  of  living  actors,  men  and 
women,  who  have  turned  to  him  continually  as  to 
a  friend ;  but  the  satisfaction  he  himself  took  in 
these  relations  is  no  less  a  satisfaction  to  recall 
now. 

His  acquaintance  with  Charles  Matthews  must 
have  begun  with  Matthews' s  first  visit  to  America, 
for  I  remember  an  anecdote  he  used  to  relate  of 
him  long  before  the  visit  of  1871.  Mr.  Fields  had 
enjoyed  Matthews' s  playing  sincerely ;  it  seemed 
to  him  perfect  of  its  kind.  "  Matthews,"  he  ex 
claimed,  when  they  met,  "  I  enjoyed  your  per 
formance  beyond  expression."  "Ah,  that  is  just 
it,"  said  Matthews,  "  you  don't  express  anything. 
How  can  your  people  expect  to  get  the  best  out 
of  an  actor,  if  they  don't  speak  or  try  to  tell  him 
so.  They  will  never  know  what  we  can  do.  It  is 


AND   PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  125 

impossible  to  give  one's  best  under  such  circum 
stances."  It  was  an  excellent  suggestion  to  a 
thoughtful  hearer,  and  left  the  door  wide  open 
for  some  kind  of  expression  in  the  future.  In 
June,  1871,  Mr.  Matthews  returned  to  Boston. 
It  was  not  a  convenient  time  to  go  to  the  theatre, 
but  returning  to  town  just  in  season  one  evening, 
we  took  a  cup  of  tea  at  a  restaurant  near  by,  and 
went  to  see  "  £1000  a  Year,"  which  was  followed 
by  a  short  comedietta  of  his  own,  called  "  Toddle- 
kins  "  (and  something  else).  His  acting  had  a  last- 
century  flavor  in  it ;  also  it  possessed  the  rapidity 
and  perfection  of  the  modern  French  stage,  while 
it  was  altogether  English.  It  was  a  very  fine 
house,  proving  that  the  absolute  perfection  of  his 
own  style  had  at  length  brought  him  the  recogni 
tion  he  deserved. 

Later  we  saw  him  in  "  The  Critic,"  Sheridan's 
play,  but  re-adapted  by  himself  for  our  stage. 
The  requisitions  of  the  modern  theatre  were  in 
geniously  engrafted  upon  the  old  play.  Matthews 
had  great  talent,  and  inherited  talent.  He  was  at 
that  time  sixty-seven  years  old,  without  a  sign  of 
decadence. 

Where  could  be  found  a  more  brilliant  man, 
a  more  fascinating  companion,  than  Sothern  ?  As 
swift  in  wit  as  a  French  woman,  as  swift  in  action 
as  a  juggler,  lie  combined  with  these  gifts  great 


126  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

tenderness  and  charm  of  nature.  I  am  sorry  to 
find  no  record  of  our  intercourse  with  him  except 
what  is  set  down  on  the  treacherous  tablets  of  the 
memory,  but  I  remember  his  coming  was  always 
a  signal  that  the  thermometer  was  rapidly  rising 
and  everything  beginning  to  glow  with  a  mid 
summer  radiance  of  feeling  and  color. 
I  find  in  the  diary :  — 

"  February,  1870.  Mr.  Fechter  came  to  lunch.  Talked 
freely  of  his  own  conception  of  Hamlet.  Finds  his  Bos 
ton  audience  wonderfully  appreciative.  .  .  .  Told  a  touch 
ing  story  of  Mademoiselle  Mars  during  her  last  years. 
She  came  upon  the  stage  one  night  to  personate  one  of 
the  parts  she  had  made  famous  in  her  youth.  When 
she  appeared  some  heartless  wretch  threw  her  a  wreath 
of  immortelles  —  as  it  were  for  her  grave.  She  was 
shocked :  drops  stood  on  her  brow,  the  rouge  fell  from 
her  cheeks,  and  she  stood  motionless  before  the  audience, 
—  a  picture  of  age  and  misery.  She  could  not  continue 
her  part. 

"  He  spoke  with  intense  enthusiasm  of  Frederick  Le- 
maitre.  4  The  second-class  actors  were  always  arguing 
with  him  (only  second-class  people  argue)  and  saying, 
4  Why  do  you  wish  me  to  stand  here,  Frederick  ?  '  'I 
don't  know,'  he  would  say,  'only  see  that  you  do  it.'  .  .  . 

"  It  is  odd  that  Fechter's  eyes  should  be  brown  after 
all !  They  look  so  light  in  the  play.  .  .  .  His  description 
of  Dickens,  as  Fechter  often  saw  him  from  the  lawn  at 
work  at  his  desk,  or  when  he  rose,  to  join  him  at  lunch, 
'  with  tears  on  his  cheek  and  a  smile  on  his  mouth,'  was 
close  to  life  and  delightful.  .  .  . 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  127 

"  Saw  Fecbter  in  the  '  Duke's  Motto.'  He  was  won 
derfully  fine.  This  is  the  play  of  which  Dickens  gave  us 
such  a  humorous  description.  Fechter  wished  him  to 
adapt  it  (John  Brougham  did  it  at  last) ;  and  he  went 
through  the  plot  in  such  a  rapid  way  with  a  baby  in  his 
arms,  made  up  of  a  pillow  which  he  snatched  from  the 
couch  in  Dickens's  study,  that  it  was  perfectly  impossible 
to  understand  a  single  word  he  said,  English  and  French 
getting  entangled  in  an  inextricable  medley. 

"  June  14.  Fechter  has  been  here,  plunged  in  deepest 
grief  for  the  loss  of  his  friend  Charles  Dickens.  He 
was  pathetic.  .  .  .  At  the  very  hour  we  were  talking  to 
gether  the  body  was  brought  into  Westminster  Abbey. 

"August.  Dined  with  Fechter  at  Nahant.  He  had 
been  in  England,  but  had  returned  with  many  question 
able  and  perverted  notions  of  people  and  things.  He 
was  dramatic  in  his  representations  of  persons,  and  made 
himself  entertaining." 

"  December,  1871.  Just  returned  from  seeing  Fechter 
in  Ruy  Bias.  The  public  had  heard  the  news  that  he 
was  to  leave  the  Globe  Theatre  in  four  weeks.  (He  had 
made  an  engagement  there  for  the  winter.)  The  result 
was  an  enormous  house.  He  played  with  great  fire  and 
care.  He  had  a  wretched  cold,  and  his  pronunciation 
was  not  only  thick  but  very  French,  as  it  is  apt  to  be 
come  when  he  is  excited  ;  and  we  found  it  difficult  some 
times  to  catch  a  word ;  but  his  audience  were  determined 
to  be  pleased,  and  they  caught  and  applauded  all  his 
good  points."  .  .  . 

Dickens  possessed  a  strong  influence  over  Fech 
ter,  and  while  he  lived  seemed  to  keep  him  from 


128  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

sinking.  He  said,  however,  when  Fechter  decided 
to  come  to  America :  "  He  will  doubtless  make  a 
great  impression,  but  whether  anything  can  pre 
vent  him  from  overturning  his  own  fortunes  re 
mains  to  be  seen.  I  shall  do  the  best  I  can  for 
him." 

The  following  passage  from  Mr.  Fields's  lecture 
on  Cheerfulness  will  not  be  out  of  place  here :  — 

"Whoever  has  the  magic  gift,  like  Warren  and  Soth- 
ern  and  Owens,  and  Raymond  and  Boucicault,  and  Gil 
bert  and  Clarke  and  Jefferson,  and  dear,  sensible,  funny, 
friendly  Mrs.  Vincent  (whom  heaven  preserve,  big  bon 
net  and  all,  for  many  years  to  come),  —  whoever  has  that 
special  endowment  to  raise  a  continued  shout  of  honest 
laughter  every  evening  in  our  various  theatres,  is  a  bene 
factor  to  be  greeted  everywhere.  When  I  go  to  see  and 
hear  these  genuine  sons  and  daughters  of  Mourns,  who 
bring  to  us  so  many  hours  of  unalloyed  happiness,  I  can 
but  rejoice  at  every  peal  of  hilarious  pleasure  that  rings 
to  the  roof  from  my  over-brain  worked  countrymen  and 
women  ;  for  each  outburst  from  the  audience  seems  a  di 
rect  expression  of  '  Down  with  the  bridge  of  sighs  and  up 
with  the  bridge  of  joy  ! '  Having  been  honored  with  the 
acquaintance  (on  and  off  the  stage)  of  many  of  these 
ushers  of  mirth,  these  furrow  dispensers  from  the  brow 
of  care,  these  helpers  to  good  digestion,  these  half-ficti 
tious,  whole-hearted,  most  attractive  people,  I  confess 
myself  their  insolvent  debtor,  who  can  never  hope  to 
pay  even  a  dime  on  the  dollar  for  all  the  delight  they 
have  given  me." 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  129 

I  return  to  the  diary  :  — 

"  December ,1867.  Ole  Bull  and  his  son  came  in. 
Ole  was  like  a  sunny  apparition  and  stayed  but  a  mo 
ment.  He  proposes  to  return  to-morrow,  however,  to 
breakfast.  He  was  eager  to  tell  us  of  a  young  Norwe 
gian  poet,  Bjornson,  thirty  years  old  only,  a  man  sure  to 
be  famous,  who  has  written  many  beautiful  things,  among 
others  a  poem  called  'The  Merry  Boy.'  Mr.  Fields  asked 
him  which  was  his  favorite  audience.  The  Norwegians 
of  my  native  town,  was  his  immediate  reply.  His  pan 
tomime  is  extraordinary.  He  half  acted,  half  told  how 
men,  women,  and  children  gathered  about  him  there 
when  he  was  to  play,  and  how  he  drew  his  themes  from 
subjects  and  objects  familiar  to  him  from  childhood.  He 
was  never  more  exquisitely  expressive,  nor  his  handsome 
little  son  more  appreciative.  .  .  .  One  night,  after  play 
ing  in  the  Music  Hall  to  an  enormous  audience,  Ole  Bull 
gave  us  the  pleasure  of  his  presence  at  supper.  He 
talked  much  of  his  scheme  for  a  new  piano,  which  was 
absorbing  him.  '  The  idea  was  betrayed  to  you  by  your 
violin,'  said  L.  4  Yes,'  responded  Ole,  delightedly,  with 
that  long  dwelling  upon  the  short  word  of  assent  pecul 
iar  to  him.  He  described  the  various  qualities  of  the 
4  Amati,'  the  '  Stradivarius '  and  other  violins.  4  How 
about  strings,'  one  asked.  '  Oh  !  there  is  a  great  differ 
ence  even  in  strings,'  said  he,  'your  muttons  must  not  be 
too  civilized.' 

"  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Fields  describing  his  new  piano,  he 
says :  4  Ericsson  has  been  extremely  kind  in  taking  a 
lively  interest  in  the  instrument  from  the  drawing  only. 
He  proposes  to  study  the  instrument  after  a  hearing,  and 


130  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

thinks  he  can  reduce  the  weight  of  it  by  more  than  half 
by  compensation  and  change  of  material,  and  counteract 
the  sudden  changes  of  temperature,  etc.  ...  I  do  love 
you  so  much  that  I  know  you  would  be  glad  on  my  ac 
count  that  such  a  reward  should  be  mine  after  so  many  dis 
appointments  and  failures.  But  if  this  also  should  prove 
a  disappointment,  well,  we  must  stand  on  the  fulcrum  and 
try  to  move  the  world.  In  coming  to  Boston  I  '11  try  to 

induce  Professor to  come  to  the  meeting  surely,  and 

illustrate  my  theories  with  some  instruments  from  his 
laboratory.  With  my  violin  I  shall  explain  the  tone 
phases,  the  construction  of  musical  instruments  in  gen 
eral,  beginning  with  the  history  of  the  violin,  the  es 
sence  and  harmony  of  musical  expressions.  I  do  feel  so 
grateful  to  you  to  have  obtained  for  me  the  honor  and 
delight  in  laying  before  the  society  my  individual  con 
victions  in  music.  .  .  . 

"  Your  ever  devoted,  OLE  BULL." 

In  1871  I  find  another  record  of  a  visit  from 
Ole  Bull  accompanied  by  his  young  wife.  He  was 
like  a  fine  strain  of  poetry.  In  rather  more  charm 
ing  English  than  usual,  if  possible,  he  described 
their  beautiful  home  in  Norway  and  his  violin, 
"vo,"  he  says,  meaning  who,  "is  seek." 

This  casual  mention  of  Ole  Bull,  giving  no  hint 
of  his  beautiful  poetic  presence,  would  indeed  be 
omitted  as  utterly  unworthy  if  it  were  not  that 
Mr.  Fields  himself  wrote  a  few  words  in  remem 
brance  of  his  friend,  which  are  to  be  printed  in 
"  Ole  Bull's  Life/'  now  in  preparation. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  131 

I  wish  it  were  possible  in  few  words  to  convey 
the  refinement  and  charm  of  Ole  Bull's  presence 
to  those  who  have  not  known  him.  The  childlike- 
ness  of  his  nature  was  admirable,  and  endured  to 
the  end.  It  was  not  necessary  when  he  was  to 
give  his  friends  the  favor  of  a  visit  to  suggest  that 
he  should  bring  his  violin.  He  never  failed  to  re 
member  that  he  could  find  his  fullest  expression 
through  that  medium,  and  when  the  proper  mo 
ment  arrived  was  always  ready  to  contribute  his 
large  share  to  the  pleasure  of  the  time.  There 
was  a  generosity  about  bestowing  himself  in  pri 
vate  for  others  which  was  delightful.  He  was 
proud  to  give  what  he  possessed.  His  friends  can 
not  forget  his  manner  of  going  and  standing  with 
his  violin  in  one  corner  of  the  library  with  his  lit 
tle  audience  at  sufficient  distance,  when  drawing 
up  his  fine  figure  to  its  full  height  and  throwing 
back  his  head  he  would  stand  silent  until  he  was 
prompted  to  begin ;  it  was  a  picture  not  to  fade 
from  the  memory ;  or  when  exciting  himself  over 
his  subject  he  would  stop  suddenly  and  explain  in 
a  torrent  of  words  and  with  dramatic  gestures 
what  he  wished  to  convey. 

It  was  one  of  the  valued  privileges  of  Mr. 
Fields's  life  to  know  George  Putnam,  the  Uni 
tarian  preacher,  and  to  listen  to  his  discourses. 
Frequently  on  Sunday,  when  the  weather  per- 


132  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

mitted,  he  would  walk  out  of  town  to  hear  him. 
I  find  in  the  diary  :  — 

"  Sunday.  Walked  to  Roxbury  to  hear  Dr.  Putnam. 
The  discourse  was  upon  the  love  between  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  of  Jesus  as  our  elder  brother.  Anything 
more  tender  or  more  simple  can  hardly  be  imag 
ined.'' 

Again,  — 

"  Walked  to  Roxbury,  and  heard  Dr.  Putnam  give 
one  of  his  clear,  strong  pleas.  His  style  is  simplicity 
itself." 

"  Heard  Dr.  Putnam  yesterday  on  the  advent  of 
Christ,  —  the  state  of  living  expectantly  which  should 
possess  the  true  followers.  A  moving  discourse."  .  .  . 

"  Such  a  sermon  from  Dr.  Putnam  !  On  worldly  and 
unworldly  gifts  ;  first,  of  the  gifts  our  Lord  has  bestowed 
upon  us  by  His  teaching,  and  second,  of  the  gifts  that  all 
the  good  and  wise  of  the  earth  may  give  to  men.  It 
was  a  most  uplifting  discourse.  The  preacher,  indeed, 
possesses  the  power  given  to  the  apostles  of  old  '  to  teach 
and  to  preach.'  ' 

"  In  speaking  of  the  presence  of  our  Lord  at  the  feast, 
Dr.  Putnam  said  last  Sunday,  '  He  rewarded  the  hospi 
tality  of  his  friends  by  his  presence.' ' 

"  Sunday.  Perfect  day ;  walked  to  Roxbury.  Dr. 
Putnam  preached  one  of  his  noble  discourses —  touching, 
heroic,  yet  so  reticent !  .  .  .  The  text  was  from  St.  Paul, 
4  Seeing  we  also  are  compassed  about  with  so  great  a 
cloud  of  witnesses.'  The  encompassing  cloud  of  wit 
nesses  urging  us  to  new  struggles  and  farther  heights 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  133 

had  been  seen  by  him  in  clear,  spiritual  vision.  He 
could  tell  us  of  them;  of  the  heroic  and  the  lovely;  of 
our  own  dear  ones ;  how  they  were  standing  and  calling 
to  us,  surrounding  and  inciting  us. 

"  He  rose  to  a  height  of  eloquence  of  which  he  him 
self  was  totally  unconscious.  He  had  been  listening  to 
his  beloved,  who  have  gone  before,  and  they  had  taught 
him  what  he  should  speak.  He  recalled  the  noble 
verse :  — 

"  '  Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 

We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 
And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 
Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time.' 

He  said  our  witnesses  not  alone  regard  but  report  our 
ways,  and  teach  us  distinctly  the  one  lesson  that  we 
should  live  uprightly,  dutifully,  kindly,  humbly ;  for  our 
days  are  few ;  and  what  can  any  worldly  good  avail  if 
we  forget  to  listen  to  the  loving  ones  who  beckon  us  to 
come  their  way  ?  " 

It  was  often  a  part  of  Monday's  relaxation  for 
Dr.  Putnam  to  go  into  the  book-shop,  and,  when  it 
was  possible,  to  find  the  publisher  in  his  corner  and 
exchange  a  few  words  at  least.  One  day,  after 
the  removal  of  Fields,  Osgood  &  Co.  to  Tremont 
Street,  he  looked  in,  and,  after  a  bit  of  personal 
talk,  said  :  "  Well,  I  suppose  you  anticipate  a  good 
many  pleasant  days  to  come  in  this  place."  "  No," 
said  Mr.  Fields,  "  I  don't,  doctor.  I  don't  look 
forward  to  anything."  "That's  right,"  was  the 
reply.  "Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  good  there 
of." 


134  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

Many  a  pleasant  talk  have  these  two  enjoyed 
among  the  books.  Dr.  Putnam  was  an  appreciator 
of  a  first-rate  novel,  and  I  especially  recall  his  en 
thusiasm  over  Mrs.  Gaskell's  beautiful  tales  of 
"Mary  Barton"  and  "North  and  South." 

They  both  seemed  to  "  take  comfort "  in  each 
other's  friendship  and  society. 

Of  Mr.  Fields's  intimate  friendship  and  corre 
spondence  with  Bayard  Taylor  little  or  nothing  can 
be  reproduced  in  these  pages.  They  exchanged 
many  letters  during  the  long  period  of  their  happy 
relation  to  each  other,  a  relation  which  was  never 
broken ;  but  in  view  of  the  record  of  Bayard  Tay 
lor's  life,  soon  to  be  given  to  the  public,  and  the 
late  publication  of  Mr.  Fields's  own  selection  from 
Taylor's  letters  lately  printed  in  the  "  Congrega- 
tionalist,"  I  will  attempt  to  give  nothing  further 
here. 

Nevertheless,  the  remembrance  of  many  a  pleas 
ant  social  occasion  recurs,  especially  during  the 
season  when  his  lectures  upon  German  literature 
were  given  at  the  Lowell  Institute.  He  had  then 
finished  his  latest  work,  "  Deukalion,"  and  his 
mind  and  heart  were  filled  with  it. 

His  memory  was  not  only  a  repository  of  litera 
ture,  properly  speaking,  but  of  the  freaks  of  liter 
ature,  and  it  was  as  astonishing  as  it  was  amusing 
to  hear  the  long  passages  he  would  repeat  from 
Chivers  and  other  eccentric  authors. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  135 

His  tender  feelings  for  his  friends,  and  his  boy 
ish  ways  with  them,  were  peculiarly  his  own.  His 
visits  to  Boston  were  a  festival  to  him,  and  to 
them  his  coming  was  the  signal  for  many  a  mid 
night  talk  and  much  wholesome  festivity. 

The  brief  record  which  remains  in  the-  diary  of 
the  years  from  1861  to  1876  will  be  henceforth 
given  almost  without  interruption. 

"  BOSTON,  Sunday,  December  8,  1861.  At  home  all 
day,  except  a  walk  at  noon  over  Cambridge  bridge.  The 
climate  reminds  us  of  Rome.  It  is  almost  too  warm  for 
fires  until  now  as  evening  approaches.  The  morning  rays 
came  through  a  veil  of  soft  gray  mist  which  allowed  the 
wings  of  the  birds  and  the  sails  of  the  vessels  (the  latter 
like  birds  of  larger  growth)  to  gleam  white  as  silver, 
and  the  whole  bay  looked  for  a  few  hours  like  a  faded 
opal.  At  noon  the  sun  poured  out  its  warm,  full  rays, 
making  it  hard  to  guess  if  this  were  home  or  Italy.  Some 
young  and  handsome  boatmen  darted  under  the  bridge  in 
their  wherries  as  we  returned.  They  were  bound  for  a 
pull  into  the  white  waves  of  the. harbor.  Before  the  walk 
read  aloud,  '  One  Word  More  with  E.  B.  B.,'  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  poems  in  the  language.  We  are  read 
ing  '  Wordsworth's  Life  and  Letters.'  .  .  . 

"  Yesterday  morning  Artemus  Ward  breakfasted  with 
us.  We  had  a  merry  time.  J.  was  in  grand  humor, 
representing  people  and  incidents  in  the  most  incompar 
able  manner.  Artemus  was  complimented  upon  his  suc 
cess,  and  his  power  of  amusing  others.  He  said  little 
but  twinkled  all  over.  Once,  however,  when  asked  how 


136  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

he  was  received  by  his  very  first  audiences  before  they 
understood  what  he  had  to  give  them,  he  said :  '  I  was 
prepared  for  a  good  deal  of  gloom,  but  I  had  no  idea 
they  would  be  so  much  depressed  ! '  .  .  . 

"  December,  1863.  Mr.  Hawthorne  passed  the  night. 
He  has  already  written  the  first  chapter  of  a  new  ro 
mance,  but  he  was  so  uncertain  of  what  he  had  done  as  to 
find  it  impossible  to  continue  until  he  asked  Mr.  Fields 
to  read  it  and  heard  him  express  his  sincere  admiration 
for  the  work.  This  has  given  him  better  heart  to  go  on 
with  it.  He  talked  of  the  'Atlantic  Monthly,'  said  he 
thought  it  the  most  ably  edited  magazine  in  the  world, 
and  was  bound  to  be  a  success,  'with  this  exception,'  he 
said,  '  I  fear  its  politics.  Beware  !  What  will  you  do  in 
a  year  or  two  when  the  politics  of  the  country  change  ? ' 
4 1  will  quietly  wait  for  that  time  to  come,'  Mr.  Fields 
Answered,  '  then  I  can  tell  you.'  .  .  .  Talked  and  laughed 
about  Boswell,  to  whom  Hawthorne  accords  a  very  high 
place,  and  Mr.  Fields  recalled  Johnson's  saying  of  a  man 
who  had  committed  some  misdemeanor,  and  was  on  the 
verge  of  suicide  in  consequence,  4  Why  doesn't  the  man 
go  somewhere  where  he  is  not  known,  instead  of  to  the 
devil,  where  he  is  known  ? '  Speaking  of  the  *  Atlantic 
Monthly,'  Mr.  Fields  said  the  magazine  profited  by  hav 
ing  the  best  living  proof-reader.  '  He  is  so  interested  in 
its  success  that  I  always  say,  No  N ,  no  Fields.' 

"  January,  1864.  J.  T.  F.  passed  yesterday  in  Con 
cord.  He  went  first  to  see  Hawthorne,  who  was  sitting 
alone  gazing  into  the  fire ;  his  gray  dressing-gown,  which 
became  him  like  a  Roman  toga,  wrapped  about  his  figure. 
He  said  he  had  done  nothing  for  three  weeks,  but  of 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  137 

course  his  romance  is  maturing  in  his  mind.  and 

had  sent  word  they  were  coming  to  call,  so  Mrs. 

Hawthorne  had  gone  out  to  walk  ('  thrown  out  on  picket- 
duty,'  said),  leaving  word  at  home  that  Mr.  Haw 
thorne  was  ill,  and  could  see  no  one."  .  .  . 

"  Sunday,  October  23,  came  news  of  Colonel  Charles 
R.  Lowell's  death." 

"  November,  1865.  Governor  Parsons,  of  Alabama, 
lunched  with  us.  He  has  sad  stories  to  tell  us  of  the  suf 
fering  and  destitution  of  the  South,  especially  of  his  own 
State.  He  has  seen  cities  laid  waste  and  burned  to  the 
ground,  with  books  and  pictures,  and  every  precious  relic 
a  home  can  contain.  In  Sherman's  4  March,'  the  town 
of  Selma,  forty  miles  south  of  his  residence,  was  burned 
in  that  way,  and  the  suffering  of  the  inhabitants  was 
terrible  to  behold.  We  know  nothing  of  the  horrors  of 
war  in  New  England,  he  says ;  and  when  we  look  in  his 
face,  and  hear  his  pathetic  tales,  I  am  persuaded  that 
many  of  our  people  do  escape  a  sense  of  this  terrible 
calamity.  He  is  a  sad  man.  He  comes  here  for  the 
purpose  of  urging  Massachusetts  to  forgiveness,  and  to 
send  help  to  the  sufferers.  .  .  .  He  went  last  night  to 
the  Union  Club,  where  Governor  Andrew  introduced 
him,  and  pleaded  his  cause.  Charles  Sumner  spoke 
against  it.  ...  Governor  Parsons  has  a  negro  slave 
whom  he  purchased  for  his  body-servant  thirty  years 
ago.  When  there  were  no  more  slaves  he  paid  him  reg 
ular  wages.  Then  other  people  came  and  offered  him 
much  higher  wages  than  he  was  able  to  pay,  but  the  old 
servant  said  :  4  No,  Massa  Parsons  lubs  me,  and  I  lub 
him,  and  we  shan't  separate  now.' 


138  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  November,  1865.  There  is  talk  of  establishing 
another  business  house  in  New  York,  large  enough  to 
represent  Ticknor  and  Fields.  It  is  an  enormous  ship 
already,  and  must  be  watched  momently  by  the  man  at 
the  helm,  or  she  will  drive  upon  the  rocks. 

"  BOSTON,  July,  1866.  Just  returned  from  Berkshire. 
Glad  to  be  at  home  again,  where  we  can  see  the  sunset 
over  the  bay,  and  feel  the  fresh  morning  breeze.  Almost 
every  day  something  delightful  occurs  ;  but  the  pleasant- 
est  of  all  occurrences  is  when  the  day  rises  and  sets  with 
nothing  to  break  the  stillness  of  midsummer.  .  .  . 

"  August.  Left  for  the  Isles  of  Shoals.  On  our  way 
we  heard  of  the  success  of  the  Ocean  cable.  What  glo 
rious  reward  to  Cyrus  Field  after  eight  years  of  delay 
and  disappointment.  '  Peace  in  Europe,'  reported  as 
the  first  message.  .  .  .  The  day  was  fair,  the  shores  of 
the  Piscataqua  gleaming  with  white  houses,  waving  trees, 
pleasure  boats,  and  all  the  gay  surroundings  of  human 
life  in  harmony  with  nature.  Reaching  the  islands  we 
followed  the  troop  of  people  over  a  plank  walk  to  an 
over-crowded  hotel,  and  bided  our  time.  After  dinner, 
having  seen  our  fellow-passengers  safely  reembarked  for 
Portsmouth,  we  started  to  explore  the  island,  walking 
over  the  bleached  rocks,  and  threading  our  way  through 
bayberry.  Dark  clouds  rolled  up  fold  over  fold  from 
the  north,  summer's  loveliness  reigned  in  the  south,  and 
all  around  the  rote  of  the  never  silent  sea  came  up  from 
the  cliffs  which  hedged  us  in.  Everywhere,  if  grass  were 
found,  we  set  our  feet  on  graves ;  if  stones,  they  were 
white-bearded  like  Tithonus.  We  peeped  in  clefts  and 
crannies  where  the  sea  reached  up  awful  fingers  and 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  139 

shook  them  in  the  face  of  the  intruder.  There  was  no 
wind,  only  a  brooding  sadness  overspread  the  scene. 
Something  of  the  dread  of  the  place  came  over  us,  a 
knowledge  of  the  dreariness  of  winter  and  the  loneliness 
of  life  when  the  busy  crowd  had  been  swept  away  by  the 
breath  of  autumn.  By  and  by,  returning  to  the  hotel, 
the  cheerful  look  of  the  place  was  pleasant  —  young  girls 
darting  to  and  fro  from  the  bath  to  their  rooms,  or  walk 
ing  on  the  piazza  with  their  elders,  or  playing  croquet, 
watched  by  gentlemen  on  the  balcony.  We  walked  to 
the  cottage  and  lingered  in  the  garden  brilliant  with 
marigolds,  nasturtiums,  coreopsis,  and  fragrant  with 
mignonette ;  it  was  full  of  wild  birds  too,  besides  a  par 
rot  and  two  canaries,  in  cages,  hanging  in  the  porch. 
Sitting  by  the  window  was  a  large  gray-haired  woman 
wrapped  in  a  white  shawl.  She  was  like  the  full  pale 
summer  moon,  so  calm,  and  fair,  and  sweet.  There  she 
sat  lovingly  watched  over  by  her  daughter,  a  constantly 
redeeming  presence. 

"  Inside  the  little  parlor  was  gay  with  pictures  and 
flowers.  Among  the  latter  a  crowd  of  glowing  poppies. 
As  we  bent  over  them  a  pleasant  voice  sang  the  old 
song  '  Poppies !  Poppies !  Poppies  like  these  I  own  are 
rare ! ' 

"  There  was  a  drift-wood  fire  that  night  and  there 
were  ghost  stories,  and  voices  were  heard  far  into  the 
night. 

"Meantime,  in  the  pauses,  the  sound  of  the  sea  came 
from  every  side  and  we  knew  its  awful  vast  stretched 
between  us  and  home. 

"  The  morning  was  resplendent.     We  were  soon  in  a 


140  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

boat  bound  for  Star  Island.  The  place  was  very  still  in 
the  sunshine  of  the  day.  The  fishers  were  gone  to  sea, 
the  women  were  at  their  household  duties.  We  passed 
through  their  yards  and  over  their  walls  seeing  only  a 
woman  occasionally  at  door  or  window,  whom  our  dear 
guide,  C.  T.,  would  accost  with  fc  Good-morning,  Susan,' 
or,  4  Are  you  well,  Sarah?'  as  if  they  were  members  of 
her  family.  There  are  only  about  fifty  families  left  of 
the  old  town  of  Gosport.  It  was  comparatively  a  large 
place  in  the  days  when  Spain  carried  her  commerce 
hither  for  the  dun  fish,  which  was  then  beautifully  cured 
by  these  people.  At  present  they  have  nearly  lost  the 
art,  for  they  have  lost  the  art  of  taking  pains.  We 
crossed  Star  Island,  picking  our  way  among  the  graves, 
or  stepping  from  fallen  stone  to  stone,  to  the  wild  cliffs 
and  chasms  on  the  opposite  side.  How  wild  and  desolate 
it  was,  even  in  the  summer  sunshine !  Then  we  rowed 
to  «  Smutty-Nose,'  where  our  guide  passed  two  years  of 
her  childhood  before  the  building  of  the  light-house. 
The  story  was  not  new  to  us,  but  the  utter  desolation  of 
the  place,  in  spite  of  the  song-sparrow  and  the  sunshine, 
the  pimpernel,  cinquefoil,  morning-glory,  and  all  the  love 
liness  of  summer,  could  not  be  forgotten.  We  heard  the 
howling  of  the  winter  wind  and  saw  the  Spanish  vessel 
on  the  rocks.  .  .  .  Rowed  round  White  Island,  but  the 
sea  was  too  high  to  land.  .  .  . 

"  October,  1866.  Mr.  Fields  received  to-day  the  most 
extraordinary  letter  of  all  the  many  strange  ones  it  has 
been  his  fortune  to  have  addressed  to  him.  It  is  from  an 
English  woman  well  born  and  well  educated.  She  is 
now  in  this  country,  however,  and  called  upon  him  last 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  141 

week.  This  letter  is  so  long  that  although  clearly  writ 
ten  it  required  upwards  of  half  an  hour  to  read  it  aloud. 
She  gave  her  personal  history  unblushingly,  and  if  one 
half  be  true  she  has  had  as  wide  a  run  in  the  best  society 
of  Europe  and  puts  as  high  a  value  upon  it  as  any  woman 
ever  did.  She  estimates  her  own  talents  very  highly,  too. 
While  reading  our  feelings  oscillated  between  wonder 
and  pity.  .  .  . 

"He  has  also  received  an  autograph  book  from  a  man 
who  left  the  volume  himself  with  a  polite  request  4for 
Mr.  Fields's  autograph.'  The  book  was  very  handsome, 
French,  richly  bound,  and  contained  many  good  signa 
tures  and  letters.  In  a  few  days  the  owner  returned  to 
get  his  book,  left  his  thanks  for  the  autograph,  and  said 
any  time  Mr.  Fields  wished  his  hair  cut  he  was  the  man 
and  would  come  to  his  house  at  any  moment  to  do  it!  ... 

u  Mr.  Fields  has  found  new  papers,  never  collected,  in 
Fraser's  magazine,  by  Thackeray.  He  is  making  a  book 
of  them." 

Mr.  George  William  Curtis,  with  a  kindness  sure 
as  his  literary  touch,  wrote  after  this  publication  : 
"  What  a  pleasant  book  you  have  made  of  Thack 
eray's  dropped  stitches  !  It  is  really  a  new  work 
by  him.  It  is  like  finding  a  lost  portfolio  of  a 
great  painter's  sketches.  They  have  all  his  man 
ner.  If  the  fruit  is  small  it  is  none  the  less  a 
Seckel." 

"  Ah  !  We  saw  Ristori  last  night,  She  was  full  of 
dignity  and  pathos.  J.  T.  F.  says  she  was  Queen  Mary 
and  he  will  never  be  present  at  an  execution  again !  .  .  . 


142  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"January,  1867.  A  volume  of  Pope  was  sent  to 
Mr.  Fields  to-day  formerly  owned  by  President  Lincoln. 
The  name,  and  a  letter  in  the  handwriting  of  our  great 
president,  are  inscribed  within. 

"  Bayard  Taylor  has  sent  us  a  picture  in  oils,  by  him 
self,  of  the  Temple  of  Apollo  Epicurius,  also  one  of  the 
ruins  of  Mantinea  for  T.  B.  A.  So  we  had  a  grand  open 
ing  last  evening.  Seeing  these  recalled  what  Bayard 

said  of  his  little ,  now  seven  years  old.  She  has  a 

fondness  for  Greek  history  and  was  found  the  other  day 
charging  vigorously  into  the  woodpile ;  when  her  mother 
asked  what  she  was  doing,  she  said  she  was  an  Athenian 
pursuing  the  Lacedemonians.  So  much  for  being  born 
in  Greece  ! 

"  Professor  Felton's  lectures  on  Greece  are  now  in  type. 
J.  T.  F.  is  delighted  with  them,  and  has  already  finished 
the  first  volume,  though  they  only  came  from  the  printer 
last  night !  .  .  . 

"  Very  large  meeting  at  the  Union  Club  last  night. 
The  question  whether  the  House  should  be  kept  open  Sun 
days  or  no  was  proposed  for  discussion.  Every  room  was 
open  and  filled.  Governor  Andrew  made  an  excellent 
speech,  full  of  his  fine  humanity,  which  is  so  sure  to 
carry  the  majority  over  to  his  side.  He  proposed  that 
the  House  should  be  open  with  restrictions,  a  few  rooms, 
and  no  liquor. 

"  The  question  of  sending  aid  to  Crete  was  also  brought 
up.  ... 

"  Thursday.  Willis  was  buried  at  St.  Paul's  Church. 
A  gracious  circle  of  poets  surrounded  the  body. 

"  February,    Wednesday.     Called  on   Miss  Catherine 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.       143 

Sedgwick,  who,  although  the  shadow  of  many  a  year 
hangs  over  her,  sits  by  her  fireside  talking  wittily  and 
wisely.  Her  presence  and  conversation  are  wonderfully 
attractive.  She  has  the  power  of  expressing  tenderest 
sentiment,  yet  so  relieved  by  a  keen  wit,  that  you  are 
cheered  and  never  offended  by  the  quick  contrast." 

"  PLYMOUTH,  N.  H.,  June^  1867.  This  place  is  now 
always  associated  with  Hawthorne.  Yesterday,  sitting 
in  the  lustrous  loveliness  of  summer,  our  thoughts  were 
filled  with  his  memory,  when  the  mail  arrived,  bringing 
extracts  from  his  diary.  We  read  them  together,  with 
keen  enjoyment ;  looking  up  to  the  hills,  meanwhile,  ra 
diant  in  sun  and  shadow.  Suddenly  we  heard  the  sound 
of  martial  music :  it  was  a  public  funeral ;  the  effect  was 
very  solemn  and  inspiring.  One  of  the  responsible  per 
sons  connected  with  the  house  said  he  assisted  Mr.  Haw 
thorne  to  his  room  that  night,  —  the  one  adjoining  that  of 
General  Pierce,  —  and  that  Hawthorne  passed  from  sleep 
in  life  to  the  sleep  of  death  with  so  easy  a  transition  that 
his  posture  was  unchanged,  and  the  flight  of  his  spirit 
only  discovered  when  his  friend  placed  his  hand  upon 
him  lovingly,  in  one  of  the  wakeful  pauses  of  the  night, 
and  found  his  body  cold.  The  distress  of  General  Pierce 
was  indescribable,  the  narrator  said,  and  '  indeed,  sir,  if 
one  didn't  know  anything  about  his  politics,  it  would  be 
said  of  him  that  he  was  one  of  the  best  of  men.  There 
is  nobody  who  comes  to  this  house  of  more  uniform  and 
unfailing  gentlemanliness  than  he.'  ' 

"  CAMPTON,  Monday.  Rose  at  half-past  four,  break 
fasted  at  half-past  five.  Mr.  Fields  went  to  Boston. 
.  .  .  The  night  shut  down  heavily." 


144  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  Tuesday.  Still  warm  and  raining.  About  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  is  the  time  now  to  hear  the  birds, 
They  clamor  wondrously  then.  Rain,  rain,  the  livelong 
day,  with  now  and  then  a  pause  of  perfect  stillness,  with 
out  bird  or  breath  of  wind,  and  then  the  rain  again  — 
patter,  patter,  through  the  leaves.  Watched  for  my 
traveler  at  night  from  half-past  seven  until  nine  o'clock. 
At  length  he  arrived,  wet  and  tired.  The  horse  found 
the  roads  heavy,  and  they  came  slowly.  He  met  two 
men  in  the  cars  who  had  been  to  see  Booth  in  '  Hamlet.' 
4 1  tell  you,'  said  the  youngest,  '  you  have  to  read  that 
play  to  see  what  he  is  talking  about.  You  'd  better  read 
it  the  first  chance  you  get.  You  '11  understand  it  a  deal 
better  then.'  '  Well,'  rejoined  the  other,  i  I  like  to  see 
him  in  "  Hamlet."  I  always  see  him  in  that  play.  Why, 
I  've  seen  it  THKEE  times.  I  tried  "  Richard  the  Third  " 
once,  but  somehow  it  didn't  seem  natural,  so  I  went  back 
to  "  Hamlet."  ;  They  continued  to  recount  stories  of  the 
stage  of  more  than  doubtful  authenticity.  At  last,  one 
asked  the  other  if  he  had  ever  seen  the  elder  Booth. 
4  No,'  was  the  reply ;  i  but  I  've  heerd  that  he  acted 
"Richard  Third"  so  true,  that  they  would  get  up  and 
hiss,  —  not  him,  you  see,  but  the  wicked  man  he  made 
b'lieve  to  be.'  " 

.  .  .  "  Drove  over  what  is  called  the  New  Discovery 
Road,  though  it  is  years  since  the  gap  was  discovered  be 
tween  the  hills  opening  the  way  to  Centre  Harbor.  We 
are  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  while  passing  a 
portion  of  the  road.  The  hills  rise  stern  and  bleak  around. 
Two  lakes  lie  embowered  in  green  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Prospect,  and  the  whole  effect  is  mountainous  rather 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  145 

than  hilly.  In  our  ascent  we  met  several  children,  all 
perfectly  untamed,  as  if  they  never  had  seen  a  stranger 
before.  One  witch-like  little  thing,  a  half-fledged  Madge 
Wildfire,  came  careering  over  the  top  of  the  hill  on  her 
way  from  school,  swinging  her  arms  and  kicking  up  her 
legs.  Suddenly  she  caught  sight  of  us  proceeding  slowly 
in  our  wagon,  and,  penetrated  with  fear,  crept  like  a  calf 
to  the  side  of  the  road  among  the  bushes.  There  she 
stood  trembling,  though  somewhat  reassured  by  our 
voices,  but  the  moment  we  were  sufficiently  advanced  to 
give  her  a  chance,  she  went  flying  off  down  the  road  as 
if  distracted.  Afterward  we  saw  a  little  girl  about  ten 
years  old  with  two  older  boys.  The  valiant  youths  hid 
themselves  behind  their  sister,  who  disdained  to  appear 
alarmed,  though  her  eyes  looked  startled.  The  wildness 
of  the  scenery  could  not  give  us  such  a  sense  of  savage 
solitude  as  these  children  did.  .  .  .  The  day  was  so  beau 
tiful,  that  we  lingered  till  the  light  faded  and  the  stars 
appeared." 

"  PLYMOUTH,  June  21st.  We  sit  where  we  can  drink 
in  the  beauty  of  the  river  and  the  hills,  and  J.  has  read 
aloud  to  me  nearly  the  whole  day.  From  our  window 
we  see  the  river  winding  through  the  wide  interval  until 
it  becomes  lost  among  the  hills.  We  have  seen  few 
places  in  the  world  so  beautiful.  He  astonished  me  in 
our  walk  this  morning  by  going  up  to  an  old  farm-house 
and  declaring  that  was  exactly  what  he  wanted,  and  he 
meant  to  have  it  and  live  here  six  months  in  the 
year.  .  .  ." 

"  BOSTON,  July.  Mr.  Fields  had  a  very  busy  day. 

Receiving  perpetually,  everybody,  from to  the  drunk- 

10 


146  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

ard,  who  insisted  upon  following  him  home.  Indeed,  he 
forgot  his  promise  to  dine  out.  I  was  obliged  to  go  with 
out  him,  trusting  he  would  finally  remember,  which  he 
did,  three  quarters  of  an  hour  after  the  time." 

"  Our  beloved  neighbors  came  to  inquire  after  his 
hand,  which  is  lame,  —  an  affection  of  the  nerves  which 
prevents  him  from  writing.  .  .  . 

"August.  MancJiester-by-the-Sea.  Walked  to  the  Dana 
Place  ;  found  Mr.  Dana,  Senior,  sitting  on  the  piazza  as 
we  approached  T—  two  or  three  fluttering  dresses  could  be 
seen  on  the  beach  below  and  a  child  at  play.  Mr.  Dana 
is  anticipating  his  eightieth  birthday.  His  white  hair 
and  slender  figure  are  so  combined  with  perfect  vitality 
of  expression  as  to  prevent  any  thought  of  decadence  in 
connection  with  his  great  age.  It  was  a  beautiful  day, 
and  the  scene  was  one  of  loveliness  and  significance. 
The  memory  of  Allston,  the  painter,  who  married  a  sis 
ter  of  Mr.  Dana,  is  tenderly  guarded  in  his  household, 
and  chairs  from  his  studio,  standing  on  the  piazza,  in 
vited  us  to  rest.  Just  at  sunset,  with  the  moonlight  in 
the  sky,  we  wandered  through  the  woods.  It  was  wild 
and  dim.  Returning  we  came  out  upon  the  lawn  ;  the 
house-door  stood  open,  the  sunset  streamed  across,  and 
young  girls  were  moving  about  in  gay  dresses. 

u  Standing  in  the  hall  door  the  full  view  of  the  sea 
and  its  sad  perpetual  music  from  the  sands  below  struck 
upon  the  eye  and  ear.  Children  were  swinging  in  a 
hammock  under  the  low  pines  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff. 
Here  we  sat,  while  Mr.  Dana  told  us  how  he  and  his 
daughter  discovered  this  beautiful  domain,  and  through 
what  difficulties  they  had  established  their  home  in  this 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.    .  147 

wonderful  wilderness.     But  he  chiefly  loved  to  talk  of 
subjects  such  as  poets  choose  :  — 

"Dreams,  books,  are  each  a  world  ;  and  books,  we  know, 
Are  a  substantial  world  both  pure  and  good; 
Round  these  with  tendrils  strong  as  flesh  and  blood, 
Our  pastime  and  our  happiness  will  grow. 
There  do  I  find  a  never-failing  store 
Of  personal  themes  ;  .  .  . 
Hence  have  I  genial  seasons;  hence  have  I 
Smooth  passions,  smooth  discourse,  and  joyous  thought;  — 
And  thus  from  day  to  day  my  little  boat 
Rocks  in  its  harbor,  lodging  peaceably." 

I  venture  to  print  here  two  notes  from  Mr. 
Dana,  as  giving  some  idea  not  only  of  his  own 
tastes  but  of  his  relations  to  Mr.  Fields  :  — 

"  DEAR  MR.  FIELDS,  —  While  your  proposal  gratifies 
me  it  also  troubles  me,  for  I  feel  that  I  must  decline  it, 
and  that  looks  somewhat  ungracious.  That  you  should 
have  thought  of  one  who  for  a  long  while  has  been  al 
most  a  stranger  to  literary  circles,  gives  you  a  claim. 
Above  all,  the  fast  friend  of  many  years,  who  spoke  so 
many  kind  and  bold  words  for  me  —  when  I  most  needed 
them  — what  have  I  to  say  in  not  making  him  a  trifling 
return  ?  Nothing,  but  that  I  have  been  so  long  a  mere 
idle  recipient  of  the  good  things  of  others,  that  I  have 
nothing  of  my  own  to  give.  I  do  not  feel  at  the  present 
time  as  if  I  would  do  justice  to  B.,  or  satisfy  myself.  It 
is  a  special  relief  to  my  conscience  that  there  are  those 
of  your  acquaintance  who  truly  appreciate  him,  and 
would  do  the  thing  thoroughly  and  well.  You  speak  of 
'  Thanatopsis,'  you  remember  k  The  Past.'  It  just  occurs 


148  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

to  me  that  years  back  I  said  to  B.,  4  Could  only  one  of 
your  pieces  be  saved,  short  as  it  is,  still,  I  should  select 
4  The  Past.'  4  So  would  I,'  he  answered.  <  Yet  I  have 
never  seen  it  alluded  to  in  notices  of  me.'  It  has  been 
spoken  of  since  that  time. 

"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"RICHARD  H.  DANA. 

"43  CHESTNUT  ST.,  Nov.  27,  1863." 

44  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  Pardon  my  keeping  Christopher 
so  long.  Was  he  not  a  man  ?  —  Oh,  large,  brave  heart, 
yet  tender  as  a  child  !  But  no  letter-writer  !  What  a 
pity  that  the  bulk  of  the  work  should  have  been  so  in 
creased  by  letters  which  are  little  else  than  so  much  dead 
weight,  —  scarce  half  a  dozen  of  them  worth  the  paper. 
Aside  from  these,  there  is  a  fresh  air  blowing  upon  us 
from  out  the  spirit  of  the  man,  which  seems  to  breathe 
over  and  through  us  something  of  his  rejoicing  health 
and  strength.  With  great  regard, 
"  Truly  yours, 

"RICHARD  H.  DANA. 

"  43  CHESTNUT  ST.,  Nov.  24. 
"  MR.  J.  T.  FIELDS,  Charles  St." 

"  August,  1867.  Charles  Dickens's  agent  arrived  to 
make  arrangements  for  his  last  visit  to  this  country. 
The  description  of  Mr.  Fields  given  him  by  the  '  Chief ' 
was  so  accurate  that  he  was  recognized  immediately. 

44  September.  Mr.  Fields  gave  me  an  account  of  his 
interview,  to  day,  with  Orestes  Brownson,  now  a  man  of 
seventy  years.  After  studying  theology  he  followed  its 
suggestions  in  many  different  directions,  espousing  each 
form  of  doctrine  in  turn  as  the  only  true  religion.  At 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  149 

length,  when  by  the  independent  action  of  his  mind  he 
believed  he  had  foniid  the  rest  he  sought  in  Romanism, 
the  stigma  of  frivolity  was  cast  upon  him.  .  .  .  He  has 
been  chosen  by  Admiral  Dahlgren  and  his  wife  to  edit 
the  life  of  their  son,  the  heroic  Ulric  Dahlgren.  They 
had  prepared  the  book,  but  found  they  were  in  need  of 
a  literary  adviser.  After  some  conversation  upon  the 
subject,  Mr.  Brownson  said  the  suffering  of  the  Dahlgrens 
was  not  exceptional :  he  had  himself  lost  one  son  in  the 
war,  and  another  was  maimed  for  life.  He  said  his  mother 
had  only  lately  died,  at  ninety  years  of  age.  In  the  year 
1861,  her  health  being  already  enfeebled,  she  called  her 
son  to  her  bedside  and  said,  c  What  is  this  I  hear,  Orestes ; 
what  is  this  trouble  at  the  South  ?  '  '  They  are  trying  to 
destroy  the  Union,  mother,  and  there  must  be  a  great 
war.'  '  Well,  my  son,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it  ?  '  '  What  can  one  man  do,  mother?  '  '  Do,  why  you 
must  go  to  the  war,  you  and  your  sons  ! ' 

"  Eight  of  her  grandsons  were  lost  in  the  war  :  six 
died,  two  deserted.  She  said  the  suffering  caused  her 
by  the  last  two  was  greater  than  that  of  the  death  of 
the  others.  She  was  born  on  the  day  of  Washington's 
thanksgiving  after  the  war  of  the  Revolution.  She 
thought  she  should  live  to  see  the  day  of  Lincoln's 
thanksgiving,  and  so  she  did.  She  died  the  following 
week. 

"  Tuesday.  MANCHESTER-BY-THE-SEA.  Mr.  Fields 
had  a  busy  day  in  town.  Mrs.  Hawthorne  brought  him 
fourteen  closely  written  volumes  of  her  husband's  jour 
nal,  —  so  fine  as  to  be  difficult  to  read,  though  written 
quite  plainly  and  entirely  without  corrections.  Such  ac- 


150  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

curate  notes  of  observation  and  such  strange  records  of 
interesting  people  and  places,  have  been  rarely  before 
made.  There  are  also  piles  on  piles  of  romances  begun 
but  never  finished,  —  chapters  here  and  there  of  exquis 
ite  beauty,  but  nothing  completed.  .  .  . 

"  Among  other  strange  persons  who  called  to-day  is 
the  poor  man  who  was  cast  away  in  the  steamer  London, 
bound  for  Australia,  and  whose  heart-rending  description 
we  read  in  the  4  Cornhill  Magazine.'  He  is  young,  and 
has  a  fine  business  in  Australia  ;  but  says  he  can  never  go 
to  sea  again.  He  is  anxious  to  have  Mr.  Fields  print 
that  portion  of  the  history  omitted  by  the  '  Cornhill,'  in 
which  he  explains  why  the  accident  took  place  and  where 
the  accusation  should  rest.  Mr.  Fields  advised  him  to 
wait,  because  the  young  man  was  pecuniarily  involved, 
until  the  case  should  come  before  the  court,  as  it  must  do 
shortly.  .  .  . 

44  BOSTON,  September.  Before  breakfast  he  wrote  let 
ters  from  dictation  on  account  of  his  lame  hand.  Among 

them  letters  of  introduction  for  Mr. to  American 

colleges.  told  us  of  Mrs.  Carlyle's  fondness  for 

flowers.  After  her  death  Carlyle  showed  him  plants,  as 
they  walked  in  the  garden  from  Farringford  and  Evers- 
ley.  He  said,  as  Miss  Gush  man  had  said  before  him, 
'  she  was  cleverer  than  Carlyle.'  '  Why  she  never  wrote 
I  cannot  divine,'  said . 

"  Mr.  Fields  told  me  to-day  an  anecdote  he  loves  to 
recall  of  Willis  (it  may  have  appeared  in  print  some 
where),  of  his  watching  a  little  ragged  girl  one  day  in 
London,  who  was  peering  through  an  area  railing.  A 
window  of  a  comfortable  eating-house  gave  upon  this 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  151 

area,  and  a  man  sat  at  the  window  taking  a  good  dinner. 
The  child  watched  his  every  movement,  saw  him  take  a 
beefsteak  and  get  all  things  in  readiness  to  begin,  then 
he  stopped  and  looked  round.  'Now  a  pertaty,'  mur 
mured  the  child.  .  .  . 

"  Governor  Andrew  came  in  the  evening.  He  said 
the  Rebel  General  Jeff.  Thompson  was  coming  to  his 
house  and  would  we  adjourn  thither.  Of  course  we  said 
4  Yes,'  and  a  strange  evening  we  had.  Thompson  talked 
without  let  or  hindrance.  A  lank,  bony  man,  with  sin 
ews  like  steel,  eye  like  a  hawk,  mouth  thin  and  flat  as  a 
fish's,  high  cheek-bones,  feet  out  of  shape,  from  his  hard 
marches  probably,  his  legs  twisted  one  over  the  other  as 
he  talked.  '  Waal,  I  '11  jest  tell  ye  how  't  was.  I  was 
the  man  that  bought  the  rope  to  hang  John  Brown.' 

"'  We've  been  awfully  whipped  though,  and  our  only 
safety  is  in  reconstruction.'  His  speech  photographed 
the  various  scenes  he  had  been  through.  He  swore  con 
tinually,  and  ended  by  giving  us  an  Indian  dance.  Jeff. 
Thompson  had  been  a  guerilla  chief,  or  as  he  himself 
phrased  it,  « had  four  thousand  men  under  his  command, 
who  reported  to  no  man  but  himself.'  One  of  his  aids 
was  a  wild  Indian,  who  brought  him  a  prisoner  one  day 
who  refused  to  surrender  his  sword.  '  Surrender,'  cried 
Jeff,  in  a  terrible  rage,  '  or  my  Indian  shall  scalp  you.' 
The  man  still  demurring,  Jeff,  ordered  the  Indian  to  set 
upon  him.  He  began  with  a  kind  of  wild  howl,  dancing 
around  his  victim,  and  flourishing  his  tomahawk.  In 
another  moment  the  man  would  have  lost  his  scalp  had 
not  fear  caused  him  to  succumb.  The  whole  picture  was 
given  with  terrible  vividness.  We  came  home  shudder- 
ing." 


152  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"November  1st.  Governor  Andrew  lies  dead.  Since 
the  death  of  President  Lincoln  no  man  can  be  so  great  a 
loss  to  the  country.  To  us,  as  neighbors  and  friends,  the 
loss  is  doubled,  for  he  failed  in  none  of  the  hospitalities 
of  daily  life.  He  was  benevolent  and  accessible  always, 
and  as  charitable  a  man,  in  the  largest  sense  of  the  word, 
as  ever  walked  the  earth.  When  Ole  Bull's  son  was 
quite  a  child,  he  said  to  Mr.  Fields  one  day  in  broken 
language,  stopping  short  as  they  walked  across  the  Com 
mon,  fc  Mr.  Fields,  you  must  thank  God  for  your  disposi 
tion.'  Surely,  we  might  say  this  also  of  Governor  An 
drew." 

"  November  *2.d.  Funeral  of  this  great  good  man  ! 
The  sun  shone  through  a  veil  of  autumnal  mist,  as  we 
walked  across  the  Public  Garden  to  the  church,  and  the 
trees  shook  their  last  gold  leaves  pensively  in  the  blue 
air.  It  was  a  lovely  season,  and  tempered  like  the  na 
ture  of  the  friend  we  had  lost.  Agassiz  joined  us,  and 
we  proceeded  together  to  the  church.  Nothing  could 
have  been  more  fitting  and  inspiring  than  Mr.  Clarke's 
service  and  tribute." 

"  November  4th.  Great  meeting  of  merchants  to  con 
solidate  the  fund  as  a  memorial  of  Governor  Andrew. 
Mr.  Fields  put  down  one  thousand  dollars  for  Ticknor 
and  Fields.  It  was  an  eloquent  and  deeply  enthusiastic 
occasion." 

"November  19£A.  Dickens  reached  Boston  yesterday. 
J.  T.  F.  went  down  the  harbor  to  meet  him.  He  was  in 
grand  health  and  spirits.  The  night  was  glorious,  and 
Dickens  seemed  impressed  with  its  sublime  clearness  and 
beauty. " 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  153 

"  November  27th.  They  have  fallen  into  a  daily  habit 
of  walking  together,  and  J.  comes  home  filled  with  C. 
D.'s  inexhaustible  Mnd  most  interesting  talk." 

"  November  "29th.  They  dined  alone  together  to-day, 
and  sat  four  hours,  amusing  each  other  with  endless 
characteristic  representations.  Mr.  Fields  gave  his  pic 
ture  of  the  chimney-sweep,  and  Dickens  in  his  turn 
gave  the  poet  Rogers  to  the  life,  and  Lady  Blessington's 
receptions,  '  to  which  I  thought  it  was  the  thing  to 
go  when  I  was  a  young  man,'  also  an  excellent  descrip 
tion  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewes.  The  latter  he  finds  most 
interesting  '  with  her  shy  manner  of  saying  brilliant 
things.'  .  .  .  He  talked  of  the  mistake  it  was  to  fancy 
that  childhood  forgot  anything ;  it  is  age  that  forgets. 

"He  spoke  of  Mr.  Fioude,  saying,  'he  is  a  brave 
man,'  and  with  most  cordial  liking  both  for  him  and  his 
works.  .  .  .  He  repeated  the  story  of  his  having  burned 
all  the  letters  of  Sydney  Smith  when  his  daughter,  Lady 
Holland,  applied  for  permission  to  print  them,  and  with 
these  letters  all  his  own  private  correspondence.  '  For  I 
thought  if  I  should  meet  Sydney  Smith  in  the  Shades, 
and  he  should  say,  "  what  have  you  done  with  those  let 
ters '" a  significant  shrug  expressed  the  rest,  though 

he  added  immediately,  '  Perhaps  he  would  have  said, 
"  You  should  have  brought  them  with  you  where  they 
would  crackle  well." 

"  Monday  night.  Charles  Dickens's  first  reading.  The 
audience  seemed  one  vast  ear  and  eye;  the  people  sat 
fixed  and  speechless.  Every  one  seemed  drawn  to  that 
great  sympathetic  nature,  and  as  if  they  longed  in  some 
peculiar  way  to  give  him  their  confidence  !  And  how  in 
the  anteroom  afterward  he  and  his  friend  embraced  and 


154  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES. 

laughed,  and  then  embraced  again  from  the  very  excite 
ment  of  the  occasion ! 

"  Tuesday.  The  reading  was  quite  as  wonderful  but 
quieter  in  its  character.  We  went,  as  usual,  at  his  re 
quest,  to  speak  with  him  after  it  was  ended.  He  was  in 
good  spirits  but  very  tired.  4  You  can't  think,'  he  said, 
4  what  resolution  it  requires  to  dress  again  after  it  is 
over  ! ' 

"  Monday,  December  9.  First  reading  in  New  York. 
'  The  Carol '  was  far  better  given  than  in  Boston,  be 
cause  the  applause  was  more  ready  and  stimulated  the 
reader.  Indeed  the  enthusiasm  was  rapturous.  Dickens 
sent  to  request  us  to  come  to  his  room.  He  was  much 
exhausted,  but  after  taking  food,  his  warmth  and  vigor 
returned. 

"  Wednesday.  At  four  o'clock  Dickens  came  to  dine, 
later  we  went  together  to  the  theatre,  and  afterward 
back  to  the  hotel,  where  we  sat  talking  until  one  o'clock. 
Every  moment  was  full  of  vivid  interest.  In  speaking 
of  that  great  railway  accident  described  in  '  All  the  Year 
Round,'  he  mentioned  the  curious  fact  of  his  chronometer 
watch,  perfect  up  to  that  moment,  becoming  subject  to 
eccentricities,  yet  this  was  rather  as  an  illustration  of  the 
subtle  effect  the  accident  had  upon  him  than  remarkable 
in  itself.  The  play  that  night  was  really  very  dull,  and 
he  sat  talking,  but  with  such  care  in  managing  voice  and 
gesture  that  only  a  keen  observer  would  have  discovered 
he  was  inattentive  to  the  stage.  After  our  return  he 
laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks  at  the  mem 
ory  of  the  laughter  he  had  seen  in  the  faces  of  his  own 
audience  the  night  before,  representing  the  different 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  155 

phases  of  character  and  the  different  effect  of  laughter  on 
each.  Speaking  of  Fechter  he  said:  'If  he  were  a  writer 
how  marvelous  his  powers  of  representation  would  be  ! 
I  who  for  so  many  years  have  been  studying  the  best 
way  of  putting  things  have  often  felt  utterly  amazed  and 
distanced  by  him.'  At  the  ballet  Dickens  observed  the 
honest  faces  of  the  women,  and  became  much  interested 
in  one  of  them  who  seemed  to  have  lost  something,  per 
haps  a  trinket,  and  who  wept  as  she  danced.  Poor  child ! 
Her  tears  only  made  her  eyes  shine  the  brighter  to  pit 
and  gallery  !  .  .  . 

"  Last  night  of  the  first  course  of  readings  in  New 
York.  Dickens  was  delighted  with  his  audience :  '  As 
good  as  Paris,'  he  said,  when  he  invited  us  into  his  room 
afterward. 

"  BOSTON,  Christmas  Eve.  Dickens  came  to  dine  and 
talked  all  the  time  as  he  will  do  when  the  moment  comes 
that  he  sees  it  is  expected.  He  is  by  no  means  a  man 
who  loves  to  talk.  His  dramatic  touches  are  peculiarly 
his  own,  but  are  of  course  more  difficult  to  recall  even 
than  his  words.  Describing  a  little  incident  which  hap 
pened  while  in  New  York,  and  seeing  some  doubt  of  its 
verity  on  the  faces  of  his  friends,  he  said  ruefully :  '  I 
assure  you  it  is  so  !  And  all  I  can  say  is,  how  astonishing 
it  is  that  I  should  be  perpetually  having  things  happen 
to  me  with  regard  to  people  that  nobody  else  in  the 
world  can  be  found  to  believe.'  .  .  .  Went  to  hear  '  The 
Carol.'  How  beautiful  it  was !  The  whole  house  rose 
and  cheered  !  The  people  looked  at  him  with  gratitude 
as  to  one  who  held  a  candle  in  a  dark  way.  Afterward 
he  invited  us  to  come  to  him,  but  he  was  so  very  tired 


156  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

we  should  have  done  better  to  stay  away  except  that  he 
sent  for  us. 

"Friday.  Quietly  at  home  together.  It  was  really  a 
novelty. 

u  Saturday  night,  January  4.  Mr.  Dickens  arrived 
punctually.  He  was  in  good  spirits  in  spite  of  a  ca 
tarrh,  which  only  leaves  him  during  the  two  hours  at 
night  when  he  is  reading  in  public.  He  was  full  of 
amusing  anecdotes.  We  were  somewhat  jealous  because 
New  York  heard  '  Marygold  '  first.  '  Please  God,'  he 
said,  '  I  '11  do  it  as  well  for  you.' 

"  Sunday  morning,  bright  and  clear.  His  cold  no 
better,  but  he  is  wonderfully  gay;  pleased  and  amused 
also  with  his  new  surroundings.  ...  I  hardly  know  any 
thing  more  diverting  than  when  he  begs  not  4  to  be  set 
going '  on  one  of  his  readings  by  a  quotation  or  other 
wise,  and  odd  enough  it  is  to  hear  him  go  on  having  been 
so  touched  off.  He  has  been  a  great  student  of  Shake 
speare,  which  is  continually  discovered  in  his  conversation. 
His  love  of  the  theatre  is  something  which  never  pales, 
he  says,  and  the  people  who  go  upon  the  stage,  how 
ever  poor  their  pay,  or  hard  their  lot,  love  it,  he  thinks, 
too  well  ever  to  adopt  another  vocation  of  their  free 
will.  .  .  . 

"  February  21.  We  accompany  him  to  Providence 
to-night  to  hear  'Marygold.' 

"Saturday.  Have  heard  'Marygold.'  The  audience 
was  not  responsive,  but  we  were  penetrated  by  it.  Subt 
lest  of  all  the  readings,  it  requires  more  of  the  listener 
than  any  other.  From  beginning  to  end  it  is  worthy 
of  close  study.  Dickens  was  gentle,  kind,  affectionate. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  157 

We  played  a  game  of  cards  together,  which  was  a  pure 
effort  of  memory  to  try  to  wear  away  something  of  the 
excitement  of  the  reading.  It  was  not  of  much  use. 

"  BOSTON,  Monday.  Dickens  came  to  dinner.  We 
sat  four  hours.  He  read  a  short  extract  from  an  English 
newspaper,  the  deposition  of  a  child  three  years  old 
against  '  Mother  Jaggers,'  a  secreter  and  killer  of  babies. 
The  child  called  itself  '  the  baby-ganger,'  whose  duty 
it  was  to  sit  up  in  the  middle  of  the  bed  with  seven 
babies  and  give  them  the  bottle  when  they  cried.  De 
ponent  saw  '  Mother  Jaggers  '  one  day  '  take  a  drop  of 
gin,'  when  by  some  means  4  the  ganger  '  falling  into  the 
fire,  and  no  one  being  there  who  could  extricate  it,  it  has 
been  disabled  for  life.  He  intends  to  look  up  this  matter 
as  soon  as  he  returns  to  England.  .  .  .  Last  night  during 
the  reading  a  telegram  arrived  bringing  news  of  the 
impeachment  of  President  Johnson.  .  .  .  The  two 
friends  walked  about  seven  miles  at  noon,  which  is  their 
average.  .  .  . 

u  Wednesday.  Dickens  came  to  pass  the  evening.  He 
was  full  of  life  and  frolic,  and  kept  winning  the  memory 
game  with  cards  which  he  called  '  Lady  Nincumwitch  ' 
in  such  a  preternatural  manner  that  at  last  we  suspected 
him  of  some  plan  to  aid  remembrance  which  the  rest  of 
us  had  not  the  wit  to  discover.  He  explained  after  a 
while  that  he  invented  each  time  a  little  story  by  means 
of  which  the  cards  were  strung  together  in  his  mind,  but 
as  the  story  seemed  to  us  as  difficult  as  the  cards  we  ac 
knowledged  ourselves  well  beaten. 

"  March  6.  Dickens  dined  with  us.  He  made  all  man 
ner  of  fun  of  his  friend  for  trying  to  4  show  him '  some 


158  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

new  fruit-houses  on  their  return  from  Cambridge,  where 
he  had  already  been  shown  so  much  that  he  began  to 
think  he  should  feel  a  bitter  hatred  to  the  man  who 
should  propose  the  next  thing  to  be  seen.  .  .  . 

"  March  31.  Dined  with  Dickens  at  the  Parker  House. 
Found  him  in  the  best  of  good  spirits  because  his  travel 
ing  is  over,  and  he  is  within  eleven  readings  of  home. 
His  catarrh  still  clings  to  him,  yet  he  is  better  and  will 
feel  quite  well  if  he  can  sleep,  but  with  all  his  gifts  he 
has  no  talent  for  sleeping.  .  .  .  Heard  the  '  Christmas 
Carol '  yesterday  for  the  last  time  in  Boston. 

"April  7.  Dickens  was  very  ill  yesterday.  Unre 
mitting  exertion  has  preyed  upon  his  strength ;  he  does 
not  recover  his  vitality  after  reading.  We  beseech  him 
not  to  continue.  Copperfield  was  never  more  tragic  than 
last  night,  but  it  was  no  longer  '  vif.'  I  should  hardly 
have  known  it  for  the  same  reading  and  reader.  .  .  . 
All  agree  in  finding  the  readings  very  exhausting.  It 
is  not  only  the  excitement  and  consequent  loss  of  sleep, 
but  the  exercise  of  close  prolonged  attention  combined 
with  anxiety  for  the  reader  himself. 

"  Friday,  April  10.  Left  home  for  New  York  with 
Dickens.  .  .  . 

"  April  11.  Mr.  Dickens  looks  into  my  room  to  say 
that  as  C.,  who  was  to  dine  with  him,  most  fortunately 
has  the  gout !  and  can't  come,  we  will  all  go,  '  if  I  please,' 
to  the  circus  to-night.  .  .  .  He  looks  in  again  shortly  with 

a  c  piece  of  dreadful  news  ';  was  to  arrive  shortly 

for  a  visit,—  one  of  us  alone  'could  save  him  ! ' 

"  The  friends  walked  many  miles  together  to-day.  It 
was  wet  and  uncomfortable  at  the  last.  They  had  been 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  159 

reading  Governor  Andrew's  speech  upon  the  Prohibi 
tion  Act  and  found  it  very  moving.  '  I  could  not  put  it 
down  till  I  had  finished  it.  That  man  must  always  hold 
a  high  position  in  your  country,'  said  Dickens. 

"  Wednesday,  April  15.  The  anniversary  of  Abraham 
Lincoln's  death,  now  three  years  ago.  Monday  night  was 
Charles  Dickens's  first  reading  of  his  last  course.  The 
night  was  very  stormy  ;  the  audience  large  but  unrespon 
sive.  We  returned  directly  to  the  hotel ;  in  a  moment 
heard  a  tap  at  our  room  door.  It  was  dear  C.  D.  who 
begged  us  to  come  over  for  a  bit  of  supper  with  him. 
He  was  wretchedly  tired ;  but  after  a  few  moments  he 
seemed  to  recover  and  became  the  most  exciting  and 
amusing  of  hosts  until  after  midnight. 

"  Tuesday.  Audience  large  but  less  demonstrative 
than  yesterday.  The  reader  came  home  very,  very  tired. 

"Wednesday.  After  dinner  we  went  to  the  French 
theatre,  walking  both  ways.  The  lights  in  the  park  and 
in  Broadway,  and  the  soft  spring-like  air,  were  delightful. 
The  play  was  wretched,  but  Dickens's  presence  and  con 
versation  were  far  more  agreeable  than  any  play  could 
have  been  to  us. 

"  Tuesday.  Last  night  came  the  final  reading.  The 
exertion  is  too  great,  and  to-day  he  is  utterly  pros 
trated.  He  went  through  with  it  bravely  in  spite  of  the 
pain  in  his  foot.  His  desk  was  covered  with  flowers. 
After  all  was  over  when  Mr.  Fields  went  to  speak  with 
him,  he  shut  in  his  hand  as  he  took  it  a  velvet  box  con 
taining  his  favorite  studs,  then  worn  by  him  for  the  last 
time.  .  .  . 

"  Wednesday,  April   22.      My  husband  went  to  the 


160  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

steamer  with  Dickens  to  say  farewell.  He  returns  to 
his  own  home,  and  the  splendor  of  England's  summer. 
He  leaves  us  the  memory  of  our  joy,  and  the  knowl 
edge  that  we  can  see  him  no  more  as  we  have  done. 
Never  again  the  old  familiar  intercourse,  the  care  for 
him,  nor  can  he  ever  feel  again  perhaps  quite  the  same 
singleness  of  regard  for  us. 

"May  2.  Our  home  life  has  lost  nothing;  indeed 
it  has  gained.  Do  we  not  see  him  here  too,  added 
to  all  other  tender  associations !  How  delightfully  the 
rain  shuts  us  in.  J.  read  me  at  breakfast  a  grand  new 
poem  by  Lowell,  it  is  called  4  June.'  Last  evening  he 
took  down  Irving's  works  to  try  to  find  a  description  of 
a  summer  thunder-storm  which  Dickens  said  was  one  of 
the  closest  pictures  he  knew  and  the  most  vivid. 

"  Failing  to  find  that  he  read  me  the  story  of  the 
'Stout  Gentleman,'  the  scene  of  which  was  laid  on  as 
wet  a  day  as  I  ever  experienced!  Reading  this  re 
called  to  his  mind  an  incident  told  him  by  Leslie  the 
painter,  years  ago,  which,  if  it  be  not  already  in  print, 
deserves  a  place.  He  said,  Leslie  was  walking  one  af 
ternoon  with  Washington  Irving  in  England,  when  as 
they  crossed  a  little  churchyard  they  saw  a  most  extra 
ordinary  stout  gentleman  just  in  front  of  them,  who  pre 
sented  such  dorsal  amplitudes  and  comical  aspects  that 
Irving  was  convulsed  with  laughter.  Whereupon  Leslie 
made  a  sketch  of  the  same  stout  gentleman  on  the  spot, 
and  from  this  sketch,  which  served  to  keep  his  memory 
green,  Irving  afterwards  worked  up  the  little  paper  called 
by  that  name.  .  .  . 

"  E has    just   returned   from   New   York.      He 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.        161 

looked  in  upon  his  publisher  a  moment  saying,  4  How 
is  the  guardian  and  maintainer  of  us  all  ?  ' 

"  Sunday.  To-day  the  quiet  of  home  once  more. 
J.  is  busy  among  his  books.  .  .  .  Some  one  asked  him 
yesterday  for  an  antidote  against  sea-sickness,  saying 
he  had  heard  that  brown  paper  worn  on  the  chest  was 
considered  good.  '  Yes,'  was  the  reply,  '  a  lady  in  whom 
I  have  no  confidence  assured  me  that  was  the  fact.  You 
had  better  try  it !  ' 

In  September,  1867,  was  published  "  The  Guar 
dian  Angel/'  by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  with  the 
following  dedication  :  — 

"  To  James  T.  Fields,  a  token  of  kind  regard,  from 
one  of  many  writers,  who  have  found  him  a  wise,  faith 
ful,  and  generous  friend." 

This  tribute  was  one  of  the  pleasant  incidents 
which  marked  the  closing  months  of  the  year. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  also,  John 
G.  Whittier's  poem,  entitled,  "  The  Tent  on  the 
Beach/'  was  published.  Mr.  Fields  is  introduced 
into  this  poem  among  a  group  of  friends,  as  one 
of  the  actors  upon  a  scene  "  made  of  such  stuff  " 
as  dreams,  and  memories,  and  thoughts  of  sum 
mer  days  long  past.  It  is  a  genial  and  character 
istic  picture,  and  one  many  a  reader  will  be  inter 
ested  to  recall. 

A  publisher's  experience  is  not  altogether  easy 
nor  agreeable.  Having  to  deal  with  the  most  sen- 
11 


162  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

jsitive  portion  of  the  human  race,  authors,  and 
persons  of  artistic  temperament,  unwonted  to  bus 
iness  and  often  untrained  in  character,  misunder 
standings  arise,  and  worst  of  all,  unfaith. 

"  Unfaith  in  aught  is  want  of  faith  in  all." 

Such  tokens  of  confidence  and  sympathy,  there 
fore,  are  a  positive  encouragement  and  assistance, 
inspiring  courage  for  days  to  come. 

"PLYMOUTH,  N.  H.,  June,  1868.  One  of  the  love 
liest  villages  in  New  England.  There  is  a  little  black 
boy  here  full  of  impish  ness  who  was  in  high  excite 
ment  yesterday  at  the  arrival  of  a  traveling  band. 
He  was  set  in  motion  immediately,  showing  a  real 
talent  for  dancing  just  as  soon  as  the  harp  and  violin 
began.  The  barber  joined  with  his  flute,  having  in 
vited  the  company  into  his  room.  Country  people  soon 
collect  at  the  sound  of  music,  and  the  place  was  quickly 
filled.  The  boy,  who  was  as  heavy  as  a  feather,  danced 
away  with  one  eye  on  the  keeper  of  the  house  (fearing  his 
disapproval  of  such  gayety),  and  one  on  Mr.  Fields  to  see 
if  he  appreciated  the  performance,  with  lapses  of  perfect 
obliviousness,  when  the  love  of  the  dance  filled  his  whole 
little  being,  and  he  became  forgetful  of  everything  ex 
cept  the  pleasure  of  rhythmic  motion.  By  and  by  an 
old  farmer  of  eighty  years  joined  the  group.  He  stood 
and  watched  attentively  for  a  short  time.  Suddenly  he 
said,  '  I  can't  stand  this,'  and  stripping  off  his  coat  joined 
the  dance  —  doing  the  double  shuffle  with  the  vigor 
inspired  by  his  memory  of  the  flying  blood  of  twenty 
years.  .  .  . 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  163 

"  July,  1868.  Drove  to  Newcastle,  the  island  at  the 
mouth  of  Portsmouth  harbor,  where  there  is  a  fort,  old 
now  and  disused,  also  a  new  one  begun  and  left  unfin 
ished.  A  sea-mist  and  a  gray  sky  prevented  us  from 
enjoying  the  colors  of  the  ocean  and  the  shore,  so  beau 
tiful  here  on  a  clear  summer  afternoon,  but  the  cool 
damp  air  was  very  grateful.  4  J.'  had  not  visited  this 
place  since  a  child.  It  seemed  to  him  then  the  Ultima 
Thule,  the  distant  fountain  head  of  holiday  delights. 
The  same  three  bridges  remained  to  be  crossed  to-day 
which  he  passed  over  then ;  the  little  islets  on  either  side 
were  unchanged,  and  the  looks  of  the  people.  He  knew 
the  name  of  the  old  toll-keeper  and  inquired  for  him,  but 
the  young  girl  who  ran  out  to  take  the  money  only  re 
membered  the  name  of  such  a  person  as  having  been 
toll-keeper  there  many  years  ago. 

"  There  are  few  places  in  America  so  primitive  as 
Newcastle  is  now,  the  small  neat  cottages  with  sea-chest 
and  pictures  within,  reminding  one  incessantly  of  Dick- 
ens's  immortal  Yarmouth.  One  old  fat  man  was  smok 
ing  his  pipe  in  the  decayed  fort  as  we  crossed  the  yard, 
but  the  sentry-box  was  empty,  and  the  round  tower 
or  lookout  was  capped  with  green,  recalling  the  famous 
old  buildings  of  the  same  shape  on  the  Appian  Way 
without  bringing  disdain  upon  its  own  head.  Visitors 
were  evidently  an  unaccustomed  sight.  Even  the  min 
ister,  who  was  bidding  '  good-day '  at  a  cottage-door  as 
we  came  into  view,  ended  his  visit  rather  hurriedly  as  I 
alighted  by  the  road-side,  that  he  might  plod  leisurely 
onward,  his  books  under  his  arm,  and  gain  opportunity 
For  an  occasional  furtive  glance  in  our  direction.  As  I 


164  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

have  said,  Mr.  Fields  had  not  seen  the  place  since  his 
childhood,  and  there  was  a  pleasing  connection  in  his 
mind  between  boyhood's  holiday  and  the  quaint  town 
delightful  to  see.  The  houses  were  hardly  changed  at 
all.  If  our  horse  had  not  proved  himself  more  compe 
tent  than  ourselves  to  untie  the  clumsy  fastening  with 
which  we  bound  him,  we  could  easily  have  lost  an  hour 
around  the  old  light-house. 

"  Returning  to  Portsmouth  the  length  of  our  journey 
was  beguiled  by  his  quaint  fancies  as  to  what  the  boys 
4  Shindy  Cotton,'  or  4  Gundy  Gott,'  would  think  of  this 
new  school-house,  or  that  widened  street.  Passing  an 
old  bridge  he  remembered  to  have  been  fishing  there  one 
day  when  the  (  boy's  company '  (there  was  always  a  boys' 
company  in  Portsmouth)  drew  up  by  the  side  of  the 
bridge,  and  saluted  him  and  his  companions.  It  appears 
he  had  been  the  captain  of  the  company  himself  previ 
ously,  but  graduated  from  that  honor  as  he  grew  beyond 
a  certain  age.  He  christened  it  '  The  Woodbury  Whites.' 
Also  he  pointed  out  an  old-fashioned  house  where  three 
young  ladies,  the  beauties  of  the  town,  then  lived.  As 
we  drove  through  one  of  the  pleasantest  streets  he  would 
tell  me  without  looking  what  the  names  were  on  the 
doors.  Some  of  the  large  houses  looked  very  comfort 
able  and  lovely  with  their  grand  trees  and  gardens  slop 
ing  to  the  water  side. 

"  As  we  drove  home  with  the  sea-mist  in  our  faces, 
the  road  growing  moist  and  cool  as  night  approached, 
the  place  seemed  as  redolent  of  associations  as  it  was  of 
country  odors.  Passed  the  night  at  the  Rockingham 
House,  formerly  the  governor's  mansion,  and  as  yet  very 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  165 

little  changed.  The  rooms  are  still  haunted  by  the 
stately  figures  which  so  few  years  ago  walked  up  and 
down  the  halls. 

"  Went  to  Kittery  Fore-Side,  and  to  see  the  residence 
of  Sir  William  Pepperell.  It  is  much  disfigured,  though 
still  retaining  the  old  hall  and  a  cupboard  of  real  beauty. 
An  old  woman  opened  the  door;  'I  've  been  a  nappin,' 
she  said,  '  and  I  'd  no  idee  the  door  was  locked.'  When 
we  involuntarily  expressed  pleasure  at  the  fine  old  hall, 
she  replied  :  '  Well !  I  don't  think  you  'd  like  it  if  yer 
lived  here  ;  it 's  a  dusty  old  place,  and  stands  just  as  it 
did  when  the  old  gentleman  was  alive.'  It  was  not  dif 
ficult  to  fancy  vessels  landing  at  the  foot  of  the  pleasant 
green  slope,  or  to  see  gentlemen  in  small  clothes,  and 
ladies  in  hoops  moving  through  the  stately  entrance.  .  .  . 
On  our  way  to  the  Pepperell  mansion  we  passed  an 
other  house  of  apparently  equal  antiquity.  Nothing  had 
been  done  for  many  years  to  preserve  the  place  from 
decay,  and  even  in  the  cheerful  light  of  that  exquisite 
afternoon  it  would  be  hard  to  find  anything  more  dolor 
ous  than  its  aspect  and  suggestion.  The  windows  were, 
many  of  them,  broken,  the  roof  of  the  barn  had  fallen 
in,  one  of  the  other  out  buildings  had  only  one  wooden 
wall  still  standing,  which  creaked  in  the  breeze  as  it 
swayed  towards  its  fall ;  the  luxuriant  shrubbery,  with 
the  freshness  of  the  season  upon  it,  was  the  only  thing 
that  chimed  with  the  living.  As  we  came  upon  this 
spectral  habitation  J.  recalled  the  strange  history  of  the 
family  to  whom  the  place  belonged.  It  looked  utterly 
deserted  now  ;  even  the  fence  and  the  gate  were  in 
ruins,  and  a  panel  had  fallen  from  the  front  door.  We 


166  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

pushed  the  gate,  but  the  hinges  were  rusted  and  would 
not  allow  us  to  go  in.  Finding  an  aperture  in  the  broken 
fence,  we  clambered  through.  As  we  went  toward  the 
house  a  window  opened,  and  a  woman  as  gray  as  the 
moss  on  the  surrounding  trees  looked  out  and  asked 
what  we  wanted.  She  was  bleared  and  wandering,  and 
wretched,  but  her  voice  was  neither  rough  nor  untaught. 
The  sight  of  such  lonely  misery  was  terrible.  It  was 
like  holding  parley  with  a  ghost.  .  .  . 

"  How  blue  the  water  was,  how  beautiful  the  sails, 
how  brilliantly  the  light-houses  shone  in  the  afternoon 
sun,  —  these  things  can  never  be  told  !  Nor  the  solitude 
of  that  life ! 

"  October  29,  1868.  The  firm  of  Ticknor  and  Fields 
no  longer  exists.  Fields,  Osgood  &  Co.  is  the  new 
name;  it  sounds  unfamiliar  to  the  ear  of  the  public,  who 
for  many  years  have  seen  the  above  imprint. 

44 1  find  that  Mr.  Fields  has  edited  several  books  of 
late  for  which  he  has  seen  a  place.  In  1861,  '  Favorite 
Authors,'  containing  a  portrait  of  Hawthorne  ;  in  1864, 
'  Household  Friends,'  with  a  portrait  of  Tennyson  ;  in 
1866,  4  Good  Company,'  with  an  engraving  of  Whittier. 
Also,  he  has  printed  privately  a  small  volume  of  poems 
called,  '  A  Few  Verses  for  a  Few  Friends,'  inscribed  to 
E.  P.  W.  In  response  to  this  little  book  he  received  the 
following  poem  from  John  G.  Whittier :  — 

TO  J.  T.  F. 

ON  A  BLANK  LEAF  OF  "  POEMS  PRINTED,  NOT  PUBLISHED." 

WELL  thought  1  who  would  not  rather  hear 
The  songs  to  Love  and  Friendship  sung 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.       167 

Than  those  which  move  the  stranger's  tongue, 
And  feed  his  unselected  ear? 

Our  social  joys  are  more  than  fame; 
Life  withers  in  the  public  look. 
Why  mount  the  pillory  of  a  book, 
Or  barter  comfort  for  a  name? 

We  are  but  men  ;  no  gods  are  we, 
To  sit  in  mid-heaven,  cold  and  bleak, 
Each  separate,  on  his  painful  peak, 
Thin-cloaked  in  self-complacency! 

Let  such  as  love  the  eagle's  scream 
Divide  with  him  his  home  of  ice; 
For  me  shall  gentler  notes  suffice, — 
The  valley-song  of  bird  and  stream; 

The  pastoral  bleat,  the  drone  of  bees, 
The  flail-beat  chiming  far  away, 
The  cattle-low,  at  shut  of  day, 
The  voice  of  God  in  leaf  and  breeze! 

Then  lend  thy  hand,  my  wiser  friend, 

And  help  me  to  the  vales  below 

(In  truth,  I  have  not  far  to  go), 

Where  sweet  with  flowers  the  fields  extend. 

The  diary  continues :  — 

"November,  1868.  Mr.  Fields  met  Charles  Sumner  at 
dinner,  and  advanced  the  subject  of  copyright,  saying  he 
hoped  that  question  would  still  be  foremost  in  his  mind 
as  he  prepared  to  take  his  place  in  the  new  government. 
4  But  do  you  know,'  said  Snmner,  in  his  most  serious 
way,  {  what  a  pecuniary  loss  it  will  be  to  your  house  to 


168  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

have  this  measure  carried  ? '  c  Yes,'  was  the  reply,  ( but 
fiat  justitia,  mat  House  of  Fields,  Osgood  &  Co.'  Of 
course,  a  hearty  laugh  was  the  immediate  response.  .  .  . 

A  gentleman  called,  who  gave  Mr.  Fields  a  pleasant 
anecdote  of  Halleck.  He  and  his  wife  chanced  to  be 
coming  to  Boston  in  the  same  car  with  Halleck  the  year 
"before  his  death.  He  intended  to  stop  at  Stamford, 
which  was  then  his  home,  but  being  in  a  conversational 
mood,  to  their  surprise  he  did  not  move  when  they  ar 
rived  at  that  station.  '  Are  you  not  to  stop  at  Stamford 
to-day  ?  '  the  lady  asked.  He  looked  up  in  amazement, 
saying,  as  he  took  his  friend's  hand,  4  The  conversation 
of  your  wife  has  so  interested  and  absorbed  me  that  I 
have  been,  what  never  occurred  before  in  the  course  of 
my  long  life,  unconscious  of  the  journey.'  The  good 
lady  had  scarcely  opened  her  lips  ;  but  what  genius  for 
listening!  .  .  . 

"  Dr.  Brewer  came  to  talk  about  birds.  Always  an 
interesting  subject  to  Mr.  Fields.  First,  he  read  a  paper 
he  had  written  for  the  '  Atlantic  Monthly,'  and  between 
and  after  the  reading  gave  us  little  glimpses  of  his  ex 
perience.  Once  he  was  in  the  woods  of  Nova  Scotia 
studying  the  Hermit  Thrush.  He  had  just  begun  to 
suspect  there  were  two  varieties,  and  was  eager  in  his 
pursuit  of  the  study.  He  came  upon  a  nest  of  the  rarest 
variety  in  the  thick  woods,  and  finding  the  old  birds 
gone  hastily  took  the  nest  and  its  contents,  consisting  of 
several  eggs,  away  into  the  light  of  an  open  space  not 
far  off.  Just  as  the  eggs  were  blown,  and  the  nest  ar 
ranged  for  transportation,  the  old  birds  returned.  Their 
cry  of  lamentation  was  so  touching  that  4 1  would  have 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  169 

put  the  eggs  all  back  in  a  minute  if  I  could,'  he  contin 
ued.  The  sound  was  quite  unlike  the  birds*  ordinary 
cry. 

"  He  spoke  of  the  mocking-bird,  and  referred  to  Long 
fellow's  beautiful  lines  upon  him  in  '  Evangeline.'  He 
once  owned  a  mocking-bird,  one  accounted  of  superior 
value  not  because  of  his  song,  but  from  his  tender  fa 
miliarities.  He  lived  chiefly  out  of  the  cage,  which 
made  him  a  cause  of  household  anxiety,  and  in  spite  of 
all  care  finally  drowned  himself  at  the  wash-stand  in  his 
master's  room.  In  fly  season  he  would  perch  on  the  fin 
ger  and  be  carried  round  the  walls,  darting  at  every  fly 
as  he  went  and  devouring  them  with  astonishing  celerity. 
One  day  Dr.  B.'s  mother  having  made  a  fine  batch  of 
pies  for  Thanksgiving,  —  mince,  apple,  and  squash,  — 
and  spread  them  out  in  4  the  spare  room '  to  cool,  the  bird 
selected  one  made  of  the  minced  meat,  pulled  the  crust 
off,  and  began  to  enjoy  himself.  Being  discovered  at  this 
crisis,  the  old  lady  put  all  the  pies  on  a  large  tray  and 
was  about  to  shut  them  up,  when,  seeing  her  intention, 
and  her  hands  being  fully  occupied  in  holding  the  sides 
of  the  tray,  the  bird  flew  down  and  pulled  her  cap  off. 

"  Speaking  of  the  robin,  he  told  us  his  daughter 
watched  a  pair  on  the  piazza  for  twenty  days,  feeding 
their  young  with  the  larvae  of  insects  every  half  hour 
until  they  were  strong  enough  to  fly.  In  this  way  the 
garden  was  preserved  from  innumerable  enemies.  His 
paper  was  an  indirect  plea  for  the  introduction  of  the 
English  house  sparrow,  of  which  so  much  has  been  said 
lately. 

"January,  1860. — William  Lloyd  Garrison  came  in. 


170  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

He  had  been  sitting  with  Charles  Sprague  ft  comparing 
notes."  Mr.  Sprague  told  Mr.  Garrison  he  could  never 
forget  three  sights  he  had  seen  from  the  windows  of  the 
old  Globe  Bank  in  Wilson's  Lane,  where  he  was  em 
ployed  for  many  years.  One  was  seeing  a  man  with  a 
bald  head  (meaning  Garrison)  maltreated  by  an  angry 
mob  and  borne  along  the  street ;  the  second,  the  capture 
of  Anthony  Burns  ;  the  third,  the  marching  of  the  first 
colored  regiment,  under  Colonel  Shaw,  on  their  way 
Southward.  Jn  return,  Garrison  was  able  to  tell  him  of 
the  delight  he  had  in  setting  up  in  type  a  certain  Shake 
speare  Ode." 

A  letter  from  Mr.  Garrison,  written  in  1866, 
may  not  be  out  of  place  here  :  — 

"  ROXBURY,  March  26,  1866. 

"  DEAE,  ME.  FIELDS,  —  I  fear  it  may  have  seemed  to 
you  either  a  singular  forgetfulness,  or  something  of  in 
difference,  on  my  part,  that  you  have  not  received  any 
definite  answer  from  me  in  regard  to  your  proposition, 
made  some  time  ago,  that  I  would  write  a  history  of  the 
Anti-Slavery  movement  for  publication  by  your  firm. 
'Be  assured,  however,  that  while  that  proposition  was 
very  gratifying  to  me,  and  while  I  have  had  it  constantly 
in  mind  ever  since  it  was  made,  I  have  deemed  it  worthy 
of  the  gravest  consideration  before  committing  myself 
pro  or  con.  But  I  will  not  delay  any  longer.  Let  me 
state,  with  brevity  and  frankness,  some  of  the  difficulties 
in  my  way. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  have  been  so  closely  connected 
with  the  movement,  from  its  inception  to  its  completion, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  171 

—  not  with  any  design  or  expectation  of  my  own,  ab 
initio,  for  I  never  thought  of  rising  to  public  conspicuity, 
but  only  of  inducing  such  as  had  already  won  distinction 
to  lead  in  the  great  undertaking  —  that  to  virtually  ig 
nore  that  connection,  by  the  most  incidental  reference  to 
myself,  might  seem  to  savor  of  affectation ;  while  on  the 
other  hand,  it  would  be  a  delicate  task  to  decide  to  what 
extent  I  might  refer  to  my  trials  and  labors  without 
seeming  egotism.  Personally,  I  feel  no  interest  in  the 
matter,  whether  made  visible  or  invisible  in  the  pages  of 
the  contemplated  history  ;  for  as  I  espoused  the  cause  of 
the  crushed  and  fettered  millions  at  the  South  without 
dreaming  of  notoriety  or  fame,  so,  now  that  their  eman 
cipation  is  achieved,  I  have  no  wish  to  take  any  other 
than  the  humblest  position  of  all  who  have  labored  to 
the  same  glorious  end,  and  feel  willing  to  be  wholly 
dropped  out  of  sight. 

u  My  next  difficulty  (and  it  really  looks  very  formida 
ble)  is  the  great  condensing  power,  —  equal  to  anything 
found  in  hydraulics  or  hydrostatics,  —  that  will  be  requi 
site  to  embody,  in  a  popular  shape,  the  various  phases 
and  ramifications  of  the  mightiest  and  most  protracted 
struggle  in  behalf  of  the  rights  of  human  nature  that  the 
world  has  ever  seen. 

"•  How  shall  the  ocean  be  put  into  a  gallon  measure  ? 
And  if  only  a  gallon  is  furnished,  what  idea  of  the 
ocean  is  given  ?  To  say  nothing  of  preliminary  chap 
ters  respecting  the  rise  and  progress  of  slavery  and  the 
slave-trade,  particularly  as  relating  to  our  colonial  his 
tory  and  to  the  pro-slavery  concessions  made  in  the 
formation  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  — 


172  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

there  have  been  thirty-six  years  (from  1829  to  1865) 
of  discussion  and  conflict,  shaking  Church  and  State  to 
their  foundations,  and  culminating  in  the  dismember 
ment  of  the  republic  pro  tempore,  but  happily  ending  in 
a  restored  Union,  the  Anti-Slavery  amendment  of  the 
Constitution,  and  the  total  abolition  of  slavery.  An 
almost  incredible  number  of  books,  pamphlets,  tracts, 
periodicals,  speeches,  essays,  reviews,  narratives,  reports, 
etc.,  etc.,  all  directly  bearing  upon  the  subject,  have  been 
published  during  that  long  period,  the  careful  examina 
tion  of  which  would  prove  a  laborious  task  indeed.  A 
faithful  and  reliable  history,  therefore,  would  require  I 
know  not  how  voluminous  a  work;  but  I  feel  sure  that 
the  materials  furnished  by  each  decade  would  amply  suf 
fice  for  a  duodecimo  volume  of  four  hundred  pages. 
What  size  or  shape  would  make  the  work  the  most  sala 
ble,  and  therefore  best  suit  the  market,  you  are  far  bet 
ter  able  to  judge  than  I  am. 

"Another  serious  difficulty  is  to  know  how  to 'keep 
the  pot  boiling '  while  devoting  so  much  time  to  the 
preparation  of  such  a  work,  with  no  adequate  pecuniary 
resources  of  my  own,  and  with  no  way  of  augmenting 
them,  except  by  engaging  in  something  that  will  secure 
me  immediate  and  regular  remuneration.  For  if  I  once 
began,  I  should  wish  to  be  unremitting  in  my  labors  to 
complete  the  history  in  the  shortest  time  practicable. 

"  In  a  day  or  two,  I  will  see  you,  and  learn  what  you 
may  be  able  to  suggest  or  propose  concerning  these  diffi 
culties. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  WM.  LLOYD  GARRISON. 

w  JAMES  T.  PIELJDS, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  173 

"  March  15.  —  Mr.  Fields  had  an  unusually  turbulent 
and  exciting  day.  A  constant  series  of  interviews  with 
every  variety  of  person.  One  of  his  most  absorbing 
calls  was  from  a  young  man  who  has  lately  abandoned 
the  Shakers.  For  three  years  he  has  been  trying  to  get 
away  and  has  only  just  now  succeeded.  He  is  a  man  of 
marked  intellect.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  (he  is  now  a 
little  over  twenty)  he  was  placed  at  the  head  of  their 
school  in  Canterbury  as  chief  instructor. 

"  He  awakes  at  night,  he  says,  in  paroxysms  of  horror 
at  the  memory  of  the  terrible  life  and  terrible  deeds  he 
has  seen  performed  among  this  people.  He  came  to 
them  when  he  was  two  years  old,  his  father  being  a  re 
ligious  fanatic,  and  wishing  his  wife  and  two  children  to 
go  with  him.  They  did  so,  but  are  now  all  free.  He 
left  the  Shakers  with  ten  dollars  in  his  pocket  to  face  the 
world.  His  friends  are  all  among  them  and  he  is  per 
fectly  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world.  In  two  or 
three  cases  he  has  known  of  young  girls  becoming  un 
happy  and  leaving  the  Shakers  only  to  fall  into  wretch 
edness  and  misery.  He  says  he  has  been  slain  intellectu 
ally  and  morally.  When  he  remembers  the  confessional 
(for  they  have  it  also  as  in  the  Catholic  churches),  and 
the  foolish  things  he  has  been  led  to  recount  as  sins  to 
the  elders,  he  can  hardly  contain  his  indignation." 

"  LONDON,  Tuesday,  May  11,  1869.  Dickens  has 
been  to  see  us  four  times  to-day,  beside  a  long  walk  with 
Mr.  Fields  along  the  new  Thames  embankment.  .  .  . 

"  Wednesday.  Dined  with  Dickens.  Arranged  to  go 
to  the  little  hospital  at  Stepney.  '  A  small  star  in  the 
east.' 


174  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  Friday,  he  came  at  half-past  ten  A.  M.  to  go  to  the 
hospital,  bringing  with  him  some  small  alleviations  for 
colds,  with  recipes.  Started  promptly,  and  by  aid  of 
omnibus,  cars,  and  a  short  walk,  arrived  before  noon  at 
our  destination.  Dickens  was  perfectly  at  home  in  this 
part  of  London.  He  was  full  of  interest  also  in  the 
young  physician  and  his  wife  at  the  hospital,  who  looked 
upon  him  as  one  of  their  best  friends.  It  was  evidently 
always  their  gala  day  when  he  arrived.  He  could  not 
say  enough  to  express  his  admiration  for  the  simple, 
reverent  earnestness  of  their  lives.  '  How  they  bear  it,' 
he  said,  '  I  cannot  imagine.  I  wish  you  could  have 
seen,'  he  continued,  'the  little  child  I  wrote  of,  who 
died  afterward,  so  exquisite  in  beauty  and  so  patient,  its 
rounded  cheek  so  pale.  Certainly  there  is  nothing  more 
touching  than  the  suffering  of  a  child,  nothing  more 
overwhelming.'  The  doctor  carried  us,  before  our  return, 
into  one  of  the  poor-houses  in  the  neighborhood.  A 
mother,  father,  and  seven  children  in  one  room  !  And 
yet,  he  said,  this  was  not  an  extreme  case.  .  .  . 

"  ISLE  OF  WIGHT,  June.  Walked  to  Mrs.  Cameron's 
quiet  cottage  near  the  sea.  She  was  expecting  us,  having 

expressed  a  wish  to  photograph  M and  J.  She  drew 

the  latter  into  a  darkened  room,  rearranging  his  dress  to 
suit  her  artistic  ends,  and  began  her  work.  It  was  not  the 
labor  of  a  moment,  but  the  result  was  most  satisfactory. 
She  said,  characteristically,  of  the  persons  whom  she  in 
vited  to  sit,  that  she  only  '  took  the  young,  the  fair,  and 
the  famous.'  Her  eye  was  quick  as  an  eagle's  to  detect 
the  qualities  she  wished  to  convey  into  her  pictures ;  and 
her  vision  was  as  individual  as  it  was  keen.  Her  appre- 


AND   PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  175 

elation  of  her  friends,  her  enthusiasm  for  them,  was  un 
bounded.  Writing  to  Mr.  Fields  after  we  left,  she  says  : 
4  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tennyson  have  spoken  with  pleasure  of 
your  visit,  and  I  can  entirely  understand  the  eternal  de 
light  it  is  to  you  to  have  dwelt  with  them  in  their  dear 
home.  .  .  .  Only  in  this  way  can  one  fully  estimate 
either  his  or  her  most  beautiful  and  endearing  qualities. 
His  immortal  powers,  of  course,  are  conveyed  in  his 
books,  but  very  few  come  to  a  perfect  and  real  apprecia 
tion  of  him  who  have  not  seen  him  in  the  intimacy  of 
private  life.  .  .  .  You  will  see  how  perfect  and  valuable 
these  impressions  are  (of  photographs  which  she  pre 
sented  with  this  note),  and  I  delight  in  making  a  gift 
of  them  to  those  who  I  know  to  be  so  worthy  of  the 
gift  as  you  are.  .  .  . 

"  GAD'S  HILL  PLACE,  June.  Mr.  Fields  has  himself 
recorded,  in  4  Yesterdays  with  Authors,'  whatever  he  con 
sidered  interesting  to  the  reader  connected  with  this 
visit. 

"  AMBLESIDE.  Mr.  Fields  enjoyed  a  few  hours  with 
Harriet  Martineau,  who  had  just  received  a  letter,  full  of 
good  cheer  about  India,  from  Florence  Nightingale.  She 
was  eager  to  talk  of  her  4  Autobiography,'  trying  to  ar 
range  everything  in  view  of  her  death,  although  she  was 
constantly  seeing  friends  pass  before  her  into  the  Unseen. 
She  was  full  of  interest  in  public  affairs,  and  talked  un 
ceasingly. 

"  Miss  Martineau's  letters,  as  the  world  knows,  are 
replete  with  valuable  suggestion  and  characterized  by 
clear,  individual  expression.  In  view,  however,  of  the 
careful  selection  already  made  by  herself  and  her 


176  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

friends,  it  is  thought  wise  to  include  nothing  further 
here. 

"After  leaving  Miss  Martineau,  we  drove  over  Kirk- 
stone  Pass,  and  walking  a  short  distance  from  the  hotel, 
which  is  said  to  be  built  at  the  highest  elevation  of  any 
house  in  England,  looked  down  into  the  Vale  of  Patter- 
dale.  A  more  lonely  spot  could  not  be  imagined  than  it 
looked  that  summer  afternoon,  from  the  height  of  Kirk- 
stone. 

"  At  Furness  Abbey  we  found  a  dwarf  of  the  smallest 
possible  dimensions,  hardly  taller  than  the  tall  grass 
among  the  stones.  In  spite  of  the  solitude  in  which  we 
found  him,  he  seemed  to  possess  an  equal  love  for  ruins 
and  conversation.  His  hair  and  cap  appeared  to  be  of 
exactly  the  same  fibre  and  color,  looking  as  if  black  grass 
had  grown  up  tall  through  a  barred  helmet.  When  he 
pushed  back  the  cap  in  his  excitement  to  show  us  '  how 
he  did  it,'  that  is,  how  he  went  in  among  the  lions  and 
bears,  and  pretended  to  be  eaten,  it  was  a  sight  worth 
going  far  to  behold.  He  wanted  a  dummy  to  play  the 
part  of  a  bear,  and  looked  wistfully  at  J.,  but  suddenly 
gave  him  up,  in  his  own  mind,  as  inappropriate. 

"  At  Lowwood,  where  the  perfect  stillness  allowed 
every  sound  to  be  heard  across  the  water,  Mr.  Fields 
amused  me  by  relating  one  of  his  escapades.  He  was 
standing  on  the  edge  of  the  lake  in  a  curve  of  the  road, 
with  a  portfolio  of  photographs  under  his  arm,  which  he 
was  bringing  to  show  me,  when  an  old  gentleman  with 
his  two  nieces  approached.  They  had  not  the  least  idea 
they  could  be  heard.  '  I  lay  ye  half  a  crown,'  said  the 
old  gentleman,  c  that  he  's  not  an  artist.'  '  I  '11  take  you 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  177 

up,  uncle,'  said  the  prettiest  of  the  girls.  '  What  makes 
you  think  so,'  rejoined  the  uncle.  c  Because  of  the  stoop 
in  his  shoulders,'  said  the  girl,  '  and  when  I  come  up  with 
him  I  '11  ask  him.'  '  I  '11  lay  ye  ninepence  ye  wont  do 
that,'  said  he.  'But  I  will,'  said  she,  4if  you  say  I  may.' 
True  enough,  when  the  party  approached,  the  blushing 
young  girl  stepped  up  to  him  and  said,  '  Excuse  me,  sir, 
my  uncle  and  I  have  made  a  little  bet  as  to  your  pro 
fession,  if  you  don't  mind  telling  us.  I  shall  be  glad  if 
you  decide  in  my  favor.  Are  you  an  artist  ?  '  ;  I  shall 
be  most  happy  to  decide  in  your  favor,'  he  replied,  and 
with  a  low  bow,  in  perfect  sobriety,  departed,  leaving 
the  shrewd  old  man,  who  evidently  hated  to  part  with  his 
sixpences,  counting  them  out  in  the  road  to  the  satisfac 
tion  of  his  niece. 

"  He  heard  a  bell  tolling  in  the  tower  of  the  little 
church  near  by,  and  seeing  two  old  men  sitting  on  a 
gravestone,  said  to  one  of  them,  '  What  is  this  bell  tolling 
for  ?  '  4  Please,  sir,  't  is  one  of  our  hold  friends,  sir,  who 
be  just  gone  to  his  long  'ome,  sir,  and  we  wos  just  awaitin' 
'ere,  sir,  till  his  body  do  be  brought  along.'  This  form 
of  speech  is  common  here. 

"  The  old  gardener  at  Dunster  said,  speaking  of  Mine- 
head  church,  which  we  could  barely  see  on  the  distant 
hills,  and  the  Luttrell  possessions :  4  They  do  hown,  sir, 
about  as  far  as  you  can  see,  sir,  from  Minehead  church, 
sir,  as  far  as  we?  Again  of  the  ivy :  '  He 's  a  fine 
plant,  sir,  he 's  a  werry  old  plant,  sir.' 

"  July  4.     Stratford-on-Avon,  with  those  loyal  friends 
to  America  and  Americans,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Flower.  .  .  . 
Thence  to  Malvern.    Climbed  the  Malvern  Hills  on  don- 
12 


178  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

keys.  Found  an  old  woman  on  one  of  the  summits  sell 
ing  gingerbread  and  beer.  It  was  blowing  hard  with  a 
thick  fog.  Mr.  Fields  inquired  of  her  respecting  the 
weather  :  '  Well,  sir,'  she  said,  '  I  've  'ad  the  plumbago 
now  for  two  days,  sir,  wich  is  as  good  as  a  halinanac,  sir, 
honly  not  so  conwenient.' 

"  Came  to  Clevedon,  sacred  to  the  memory  of  Arthur 
Hallam.  High,  overlooking  the  river  Severn.  We  lin 
gered  there ;  the  place  possesses  a  deep  interest  for  all 
lovers  of  Tennyeon  and  the  Hallams.  Came  to  Devon 
shire.  Found  an  old-fashioned  garden  behind  the  inn  at 
Tiverton  quite  at  our  service.  .  .  .  We  begin  to  find 
quaint  names  —  Innocent  Witherstone,  Ezekiel  Hear, 
Elizabeth  Bobby,  Selina  Skipwith  —  good  for  a  novel. 

"  Dunster.  Wonderful  old  place.  Again  we  could 
fancy  traces  of  Tennyson's  observation  and  description. 
Hotel,  formerly  an  abbey,  with  ancient  garden  behind. 
Terrace  overlooking  the  sea.  At  the  castle  an  old  gar 
dener,  proud  of  the  family  and  his  position,  which  he  has 
held  for  sixty  years.  A  sleeping  palace  —  beautiful  in 
decay.  Came  into  the  village  at  dusk  ;  saw  remains  of 
all  kinds  of  birds  and  animals,  inimical  to  the  farmers' 
good,  nailed  up  outside  the  door  of  an  old  stone  barn  ;  a 
singer  in  the  streets,  dancing  as  he  sang,  and  shouting  to 
the  children,  '  get  off  the  carpet,  get  off  the  forum  ; '  the 
old  church  doors  open,  the  choir  preparing  for  Sunday 
service  ;  fresh  girlish  voices. 

"  Sunday,  at  Lynton.  A  little  garden  outside  our  win 
dow  bounded  by  a  hedge,  thence  a  steep  descent  to  the 
sea,  with  pines,  chestnuts,  and  beeches  covering  the  slope 
to  the  shingly  shore  below;  the  sound  of  the  water  is 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  179 

heard  perpetually.  In  the  distance  the  beach  curves  as 
at  Raise,  giving  a  perfect  view  of  the  strand  and  cliffs 
sloping  in  enormous  waves  of  red  and  green  declivity  to 
the  opal  sea.  Drove  from  Lynton  over  bits  of  moor,  be 
tween  high  hedges,  with  the  purple  heather  coming  out 
in  fringes  along  the  way  ;  rounding  headlands  with  the 
sea  constantly  in  view.  On  to  Ilfracombe,  where  the 
chief  delight  was  to  lie  on  rocks  and  fancy  ourselves  a,t 
home.  .  .  . 

"  SWITZERLAND,  August.  Talking  of  the  Grimsel  in 
bad  weather,  Mr.  Fields  said  :  i  He  hated  to  be  dragged 
up  where  the  Devil  carried  the  best  man  that  ever  lived.' 
We  did  not  go  over  the  Grimsel !  .  .  . 

"  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A.,  November,  1869.  We  light  the 
first  fire  on  our  library  hearth,  and  somehow  feel  a  little 
solemnity  about  it,  as  if  it  were  for  a  high  festival.  Our 
boxes  have  all  arrived  at  length  from  England.  The 
original  portrait  of  Pope,  painted  by  Richardson,  master 
of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  purchased  by  Mr.  Fields 
while  in  London  from  the  gallery  of  the  Marquis  of  Has 
tings,  is  hung  up." 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year  James  Russell  Lowell 
printed  his  poem,  "  The  Cathedral/'  with  the  fol 
lowing  dedication  :  — 

"TO   MR.   JAMES   T.   FIELDS. 

"MY  DEAR  FIELDS, —  Dr.  Johnson's  sturdy  self-re 
spect  led  him  to  invent  the  Bookseller  as  a  substitute  for 
the  Patron.  My  relations  with  you  have  enabled  me 
to  discover  how  pleasantly  the  Friend  may  replace  the 
Bookseller.  Let  me  record  my  sense  of  many  thoughtful 


180  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

services  by  associating  your  name  with  a  poem  which 
owes  its  appearance  in  this  shape  to  your  partiality. 

"  Cordially  yours, 

"  J.  R.  LOWELL. 

"  CAMBRIDGE,  November  29,  1869." 

In  the  winter  of  1870  Mr.  Fields's  health  began 
to  give  way.  The  voyages,  the  excitement  of 
travel,  and  his  return  to  business  responsibilities, 
proved  too  much  even  for  his  excellent  constitu 
tion.  His  sleep  was  broken  and  his  spirits  suf 
fered.  He  who  had  been  the  life  of  every  feast 
was  often  silent  and  fatigued.  His  strength  seemed 
to  fade  away  from  him,  and  after  any  little  ex 
ertion  or  excitement  he  would  fall  asleep  from 
utter  exhaustion.  That  winter  was  like  a  valley  of 
shadows  which  led  us  in  June  to  Dickens's  grave. 

The  summer  was  a  very  warm  one,  and  Mr. 
Fields  continued  to  go  to  town  from  Manchester- 
by-the-Sea  daily,  with  few  exceptions.  There  was 
cause  for  anxiety  about  his  health.  He  seemed 
tired,  as  Mrs.  Hawthorne  once  said  of  herself, 
"  far  into  the  future."  Nevertheless  those  days 
by  the  shore  were  restoring  in  their  influence, 
and  the  autumn  found  him  better  and  slow  to 
leave. 

u  Who  knows  if  we  shall  ever  see  that  glorious  sight 
again  together  !  The  waves  were  very  high,  a  gorgeous 
sunset  sent  its  late  yellow  shafts  out  over  the  gray  sea, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  181 

the  foam  broke  on  the  distant  rocks  like  a  sudden  burst 
of  soft  white  blooms,  it  was  all  vast,  glorious,  indescrib 
able.  We  sat  on  the  sandhills,  overlooking  the  beach 
and  the  wide  scene  for  an  hour.  It  never  appeared  to 
us  more  lovely.  Coming  back  we  scrambled  over  Thun 
derbolt  Hill,  and  saw  the  sunset  among  the  red  sumach 
and  ripening  apples. 

"  TUESDAY,  November  1,  1870.  We  begin  this  month 
with  different  feelings  from  any  I  could  have  anticipated. 
.  .  .  The  weight  of  this  great  business  house  is  no  longer 
to  rest  where  it  has  done.  It  is  a  cloud  behind  us.  Mr. 
Fields  is  like  a  different  man  already.  .  .  . 

"  January,  1871.  A  visit  from  William  Hunt.  One 
of  the  most  dramatic  creatures  who  ever  lived.  He  told 
a  story  of  a  student  from  the  South  who  came  to  Har 
vard  University  with  a  colored  servant.  Returning  to 
his  rooms  one  night  (or  day)  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  he  found  a  company  of  negroes  leaning  back  in 
his  chairs,  smoking  his  cigars  and  drinking  his  sherry. 
With  a  grace  Hunt  could  not  sufficiently  admire,  the 
voung  man  walked  through  the  rooms  as  if  he  did  not 
see  its  occupants,  whereat  they  all  crumbled  away,  no 
body  knew  where,  only  his  own  man  remained,  who,  as 
quick  as  thought,  gathered  the  bottles  under  his  coat,  and 
when  his  master  did  look  round  was  furiously  dusting 
the  room  with  a  feather  duster.  Hunt's  mimicry  of  the 
whole  scene  was  inimitable. 

"  His  delight,  too,  over  the  Cameron  photographs  ! 
4  Go  'way,'  he  said,  getting  into  a  corner  with  one  of 
them,  as  if  it  were  a  piece  of  cake,  and  he  four  years 
^ld.  '  I  don't  want  anybody  to  see  it  till  I  Ve  done  with 


182  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

it.'  I  held  a  second  one  for  his  inspection.  '  No,  no,' 

he  said,  '  he  may  have  that,  (pointing  to  T ),  and 

I  '11  keep  this  !  '  It  was  so  absurdly  like  a  child,  and  yet 
done  with  such  real  feeling  that  it  was  very  comic. 

"  He  loves  to  tell  stories  of  animals,  especially  one  of 
going  to  a  place  in  Paris,  where  the  man  had  only  a 
monkey  and  an  elephant  to  exhibit.  He  was  determined, 
therefore,  to  make  the  most  of  the  show.  He  arrayed 
the  elephant,  (who  just  fitted  in  to  the  apartment  with 
no  room  at  all  left  over,)  with  a  napkin  about  him,  as  if 
he  were  dining;  and  the  monkey,  dressed  as  a  gargon  de 
cafe*,  came  dancing  in  with  the  plates  one  after  another 
He  would  enter  with  long  strides,  flinging  down  the  tin 
plate  before  the  elephant  with  perfect  nonchalance,  so 
long  as  it  contained  salads  and  the  like;  but  when  it 
came  to  the  nuts  and  raisins,  his  dance  was  altogether 
vertical,  he  being  occupied  with  gobbling  up  the  contents 
on  the  way.  Finally,  on  arriving  at  the  elephant,  he 
would  fling  the  empty  plate  before  him  with  a  grand  air. 
In  Hunt's  hands  this  became  a  little  drama,  in  which  he 
played  all  the  parts  with  infinite  amusement. 

"He  caught  himself,  as  he  said,  the  other  night,  daring 
to  look  at  a  little  charcoal  drawing  of  his  own,  hanging 
on  the  wall  behind  him  in  our  room.  4  That  heather,'  he 
said,  '  with  the  starry  blooms  !  the  paper  is  left,  there 
is  no  white  laid  on ;  there  never  could  be  any  white 
put  on  to  shine  like  that !  I  wonder  who  the  fellar  was 
who  did  it !  It  was  done  with  a  great  piece  of  charcoal 
which  just  left  the  spots  clear.  Ha  !  I  'd  like  to  see  the 
man  who  could  do  that  again  !  I  could  n't !  By  George ! 
I  tell  you  what,  look  at  that  little  bit  (drawing  his  finger 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  183 

round  and  round  the  heather-top),  the  fellar  must  have 
known  he  had  done  a  good  thing  by  the  time  that  was 
finished.'  .  .  . 

Last  night  Hunt  came.  He  '  played '  he  was  a  mani 
kin, —  figure  of  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,  also  Mrs.  Smith; 
nothing  could  be  more  laughable.  He  sang,  too,  with 
much  feeling,  always  protesting  he  had  forgotten  both 
words  and  tune. 

"  Tried  to  read  aloud,  which  he  said  he  never  could  do. 
He  so  bewitched  the  meaning  that  we  were  overwhelmed 
with  laughter.  As  for  E — ,  Mr.  Fields  said  he  laughed 
until  '  his  eyes  left  their  wonted  sockets,  and  went  to 
laugh  far  back  in  his  brain.' 

"  Putting  down  the  book  Hunt  launched  into  a  sea  of 
talk  upon  his  own  life  as  a  painter  ;  of  his  lonely  posi 
tion  here  without  any  one  to  look  up  to  in  his  art ;  his 
idea  being  misunderstood ;  of  his  determination  not  to 
paint  cloth  and  cheeks,  but  the  glory  of  age  and  the 
light  of  truth.  He  became  almost  too  excited  to  find 
words ;  but  when  he  did  grasp  a  phrase  it  was  with  a 
power  that  sent  his  meaning,  barbed  with  feeling,  home. 
4  If  the  books  you  wrote  were  left  dusty  and  untouched 
upon  the  shelves,  don't  you  think  you  'd  try  to  write  so 
that  people  should  want  them  ?  I  am  sure  you  would.' 

"  BOSTON,  May  12,  1871.  Third  meeting  of  officers  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  [Bret  Harte  was  expected 
to  read  the  poem.  On  the  previous  evening  he  wrote 
to  say  he  could  not  come  in  person,  but  would  send  his 
verses.  It  was  an  important  occasion.  Generals  Sheri 
dan,  Meade,  Hooker,  and  many  others,  were  present,  who 
had  won  the  right  to  be  forever  loved  and  remembered 


184  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

by  the  people.  A  committee  waited  upon  Mr.  Fields  to 
ask  him  to  read  the  verses.  Bret  Harte  was  then  at  the 
height  of  his  popularity  ;  public  curiosity  was  alive  to 
see  him,  and  a  feeling  of  disappointment  must  greet  any 
one  who  should  stand  in  his  place ;  beside,  the  verses  did 
not  arrive.  It  was  an  unwelcome  duty  at  the  best,  but 
accepting  it  as  the  least  he  could  do  for  the  men  who  had 
fought  as  these  had  done,  Mr.  Fields  wrote  a  few  verses 
himself  which  might  introduce  the  others  in  case  they 
arrived,  or  preface  some  apology,  telegraphed  to  Harte, 
and  one  hour  before  the  ceremonies  opened  at  the  Globe 
Theatre,  received  his  manuscript  from  New  York.  In 
that  short  time  it  was  studied,  read  and  re-read,  and  pre 
pared  for  public  presentation.] 

"  CATSKILL,  June.  Our  boy-driver  had  never  read 
Irving's  story,  but  had  often  heard  of  Rip  Van  Winkle. 
4  Who  wrote  the  story,  do  you  know?  '  asked  Mr.  Fields. 
4  Washington,  did  n't  he  ?  '  was  the  reply.  He  said  his 
father  came  '  from  those  parts,'  and  had  told  him  the 
story  over  and  over  until  he  was  curious  to  come  and  see 
the  place.  It  was  '  all  flat '  at  the  West,  where  he  passed 
his  boyhood,  4  and  the  fust  time  I  saw  this,  I  tell  you  ! 
I  never  thought  there  could  be  such  a  place.  Well !  I 
just  come  to  see  it,  and  I  Ve  stayed  here  ever  since,  nigh 
on  three  year.'  The  place  where  Rip  had  his  long  sleep, 
and  where  a  small  wayside  inn  now  stands,  overlooks  a 
wonderful  valley  through  a  natural  gorge.  The  sunset 
light  made  everything  radiant  as  we  ascended.  Coming 
to  the  summit  with  hands  full  of  laurel  blooms,  we  went 
out  upon  the  magnificent  plateau,  and  hardly  left  it  again 
until  we  were  obliged  to  come  away  altogether.  In  the 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  185 

moonlight  we  heard  the  tree-toads  calling,  and  every 
thing  else  that  lives  and  stirs  in  the  woods  in  the  deep 
ening  hours.  The  sky  was  '  living  sapphire  '  where  the 
sun  had  left  it  long  before,  the  stars  and  planets  were 
appearing  in  the  east,  the  trees  stood  as  if  cut  upon  the 
steeps  of  heaven,  and  the  whole  scene  was  solemn  with 
night  and  loveliness.  .  .  . 

"  Some  one  was  speaking  of  the  dishonest  manage 
ment  of  the  Erie  Railroad.  Mr.  Fields  said,  *  The  Bible 
says  :  Buy  the  Truth  and  sell  it  not ;  the  Erie  men  say, 
Buy  the  Truth  and  sell  it  out  for  a  profit.' 

"November  6,  1871.    Mr.  Fields  4  lectured'  in  Boston. 

"  December.  Continues  to  lecture  ;  making  additions 
and  changes  continually  in  his  essays.  .  .  .  Went  to  hear 
Horace  Greeley  c  On  Wit.'  It  was  a  singular  agglomera 
tion  of  matter.  Old  Miller  jokes,  combined  with  quo 
tations  from  the  dramatists.  Strange  enough  in  manner 
also.  His  sole  gesture  being  to  paddle  the  fingers  of  one 
hand  as  if  he  were  thrumming  a  piano.  He  was  dab 
bling  his  finger-tips  in  water  he  had  spilled  from  the 
tumbler  upon  the  table  in  order  to  turn  the  leaves  more 
easily.  It  was  a  bad  night,  and  the  audience  was  small, 
but  Greeley  was  content  with  his  one  friendly  listener. 
*  Good,  ain't  it  ?  '  he  said,  after  it  was  over. 

"January,  1872.  Mr.  Fields  is  continually  lecturing 
and  overflowing  with  singular  4  experiences.'  He  is  writ 
ing  a  paper  upon  (  Tennyson  '  (this  was  the  first  sketch 
of  the  future  lecture),  to  read  before  a  small  private 
company  next  week. 

"January  25.  Lectured  at  L .  Crowded  house ; 

pretty  town ;  the  moon  was  up,  but  it  was  very  cold ; 


186  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

walked  out  on  the  snow  between  moon-set  and  sunrise ; 
returned  to  breakfast  at  home  in  Boston.  Described  the 

good  man  who  kept  the  hotel  in  L .    '  Now,'  said  he, 

'after  the  lecter  to-night,  I  shall  give  ye,  —  oysters, — 
hot.'  Returning,  there  was  some  delay  about  the  oys 
ters.  Presently  the  landlord  appeared,  bringing  them 
himself.  '  Military  ball  here  last  night,  —  cook  as  mad 
as  thunder,  —  but  here  are  yer  oysters!'  putting  them 
down  triumphantly.  When  they  were  fairly  on  the  table 
he  turned  to  Mr.  Fields  :  *  I  was  in  to-night.'  '  Yes,' 
said  Mr.  Fields,  '  I  saw  you.'  '  Did  ! '  (with  faint  in 
tonation  of  surprise).  4  Well,  Mr.  Foster  and  I  was 
a-talkin'  of  it  comin'  out,  and  sayin'  we  thought  'twas 
abaout  as  good  a  lecter  as  we  'd  ever  hed  here.'  ' 

Mr.  Fields  was  subject  at  this  time  to  severe 
colds,  which  attacked  the  lungs,  and  occasionally 
prevented  him  from  fulfilling  his  engagements ;  to 
be  stopped  coming  out  of  a  lecture  room  to  hear 
"  a  good  story,"  which  somebody  had  been  saving 
till  that  unfortunate  moment,  or  to  be  detained 
on  a  windy  corner,  were  sure  to  bring  him  more 
or  less  discomfort. 

"  May.  Revolving  plans  for  a  course  of  free  lectures 
for  women  upon  English  literature,  to  be  given  during 
the  autumn  ;  something  to  bring  the  audience  of  women 
together  who  are  longing  for  a  better  education  ;  to  be 
able  to  look  it  over  and  understand  the  need." 

As  a  result  of  Mr.  Fields's  labors  in  behalf  of  a 
larger  opportunity  for  women  desiring  an  educa- 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  187 

tion,  the  following  article  from  his  hand  soon  ap 
peared  in  the  newspapers  of  the  day,  shortly  fol 
lowed  by  the  advertisement  appended.  These 
serve  to  show  how  generously  his  friends  re 
sponded  to  his  appeal  for  their  assistance  in  his 
plans :  — 

"  GOOD  NEWS  FOB  WOMEN.  —  During  the  months  of 
October,  November,  and  December  of  this  year,  on  Sat 
urday  afternoons,  at  three  o'clock,  in  the  large  hall  of 
the  Technological  Institute,  there  will  be  given  a  free 
course  of  twelve  lectures  to  women  on  subjects  connected 
with  English  literature.  These  lectures  are  not  to  be 
reported  in  the  papers,  or  printed  in  book-form.  The 
following  eloquent  lecturers  are  already  engaged  for  each 
Saturday  in  the  above  months,  beginning  October  5 : 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Phillips  Brooks,  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  Edwin  P.  Whipple,  Wendell  Phillips,  George 
S.  Hillard,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  William  R.  Alger, 
John  Weiss,  George  William  Curtis. 

"  It  is  the  design,  we  presume,  of  this  course  of  free 
lectures  to  introduce  a  scheme  of  instruction  for  women 
which  shall  give  to  them  the  advantages  so  long  afforded 
to  students  in  universities.  It  is  the  beginning  of  a  plan 
which  will  be  hailed  with  delight  wherever  the  full  and 
proper  education  of  women  has  been  discussed.  This 
course  will  no  doubt  be  followed  by  others  in  the  sciences, 
etc.,  and  Boston  will  have  the  credit  of  starting  a  plan 
which  is  sure  to  end  in  university  education  for  women 
in  various  parts  of  the  country. 

"  We  understand  there  are  to  be  no  tickets  of  admis- 


188  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

sion  issued,  but  that  all  women  (and  only  women  are  to 
be  admitted  to  the  hall,  as  there  will  be  no  room  for 
others)  who  wish  to  avail  themselves  of  such  a  course  in 
English  literature  will  go  early  enough  to  take  their 
places.  The  hall  will  seat  between  eight  and  nine  hun 
dred  only,  and  is  to  be  opened  at  two  o'clock  and  closed 
promptly  at  three,  to  avoid  any  interruption  after  the 
lecture  of  the  day  has  commenced.  School  teachers  es 
pecially  are  to  be  benefited  by  this  course,  and  if  the 
hall  were  double  its  size  it  would  not  be  large  enough 
to  accommodate  all  the  women  who  will  wish  to  be 
present. 

"  The  idea  of  this  provision  for  the  instruction  of 
women  is  a  noble  one,  and  is  another  evidence  that  the 
world  moves." 

Later  the  following  advertisement  appec^red  :  — 

"  A  free  course  of  twelve  lectures  to  women  on  sub 
jects  connected  with  English  literature,  will  be  given  in 
the  large  hall  of  the  Technological  Institute,  during  the 
months  of  October,  November,  and  December,  1872. 

"  To  commence  on  Saturday  afternoon,  October  5,  at 
3  o'clock,  and  to  be  continued  every  Saturday  afternoon 
following,  at  the  same  hour,  until  the  series  is  ended  in 
December. 
"  The   lecturers    for   October  are  Mrs.  E.   D.   Cheney, 

Edwin    P.    Whipple,    John    Weiss,    Oliver    Wendell 

Holmes. 
'•  The  lecturers  for  November  are    George    S.  Hillard, 

Phillips    Brooks,   Wendell   Phillips,    Robert    Collyer, 

William  E.  Alger. 


AND   PERSONAL    SKETCHES.  189 

"The  lecturers  for  December  are  Ralph  Waldo  Emer 
son,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  George  William  Curtis. 
"  The  hall  will  be  opened  at  2^  o'clock  each  Saturday, 
and  closed  precisely  at  3.     Seats  are  provided  for  nine 
hundred  ladies,  who  will  be  admitted  without  tickets." 

Perhaps  there  can  be  found  no  more  suitable 
point  in  this  "  story  of  a  life/'  than  the  one  we 
have  now  reached,  to  incorporate  a  beautiful  trib 
ute  to  Mr.  Fields  received  from  Mrs.  Mary  A. 
Livermore,  and  written  during  a  rapid  tour  in 
Europe  in  the  summer  of  1881.  This  journey, 
prescribed  to  Mrs.  Livermore  by  her  physician 
after  a  season  of  unusual  fatigue,  was  to  be  a 
period  of  rest ;  therefore  surprise  and  gratitude 
were  both  aroused  by  the  reception  of  this  letter 
from  her  in  the  early  summer.  Mrs.  Livermore 
writes :  — 

"LONDON,  ENGLAND,  June  15,  1881. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  the  first  time  I  met  Mr.  Fields. 
It  was  during  the  war,  and  when  I  was  living  in  Chicago. 
The  great  need  of  funds  to  carry  on  the  work  of  the 
Sanitary  Commission  had  driven  the  women  of  the  north 
west  to  the  last  resort  —  a  grand  fair.  It  was  the  first 
of  the  series  of  great  fairs  which  yielded  immense  sums 
of  money  to  the  Sanitary  Commission,  and,  unlike  those 
which  followed  it,  it  was  projected  and  carried  on  almost 
entirely  by  women.  All  available  women  were  harnessed 
into  the  various  departments  of  the  fair  ;  and  the  com 
mittee  having  in  charge  the  publication  of  the  daily  fair 
paper,  desiring  that  its  brief  life  of  three  weeks  should 


190  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

be  a  brilliant  one,  I  was  despatched  to  Boston  for  assist 
ance. 

"  I  was  instructed  to  secure,  if  possible,  the  services  of 
a  lady,  then  '  a  bright  particular  star '  in  the  literary 
world.  I  only  knew  that  Mr.  Fields  was  the  lady's  pub 
lisher,  and  so,  without  letters  of  introduction,  and  unac 
companied,  I  sought  him  at  his  office,  and  introduced 
myself  and  my  errand.  Fully  aware  that  my  errand 
might  seem  quixotic  or  infinitesimal  to  the  great  pub 
lisher,  I  was  prepared  for  a  cool  reception. 

"  I  shall  always  remember  the  great  courtesy  and 
kindness  with  which  Mr.  Fields  received  me.  I  was  at 
ease  directly.  He  listened  with  interest  to  my  story, 
kindled  with  enthusiasm  as  I  told  him  of  the  prepara 
tions  for  the  fair,  all  eminently  western,  of  the  patriotic 
audacity  of  the  women  of  the  northwest,  who  proposed 
to  raise  $100,000  for  their  sick  and  wounded  'boys  in 
blue,'  and  immediately  put  himself  at  our  service,  and 
sought  to  make  my  errand  successful. 

"  I  failed  of  accomplishing  what  I  sought,  but  it  was 
not  through  any  indifference  or  lack  of  effort  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Fields.  Seemingly  intent  on  aiding  us,  he  dis 
cussed  with  me  the  details  of  the  paper,  was  fertile  in 
suggestions  and  hints  by  which  we  profited,  and  prom 
ised  to  solicit  contributions  from  eminent  people  with 
whom  he  had  relations,  —  a  promise  that  he  kept. 

"  As  I  rose  to  leave,  he  made  inquiries  concerning  my 
experiences  in  hospitals,  on  transports,  and  among  our 
sick  and  wounded  soldiers.  His  face  glowed,  his  eye 
moistened,  as  I  spoke  of  the  marvelous  heroism,  the  in 
describable  patience,  and  the  sublime  resignation  of  men, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  191 

young,  with  families  that  needed  them,  to  whom  life  was 
full  of  promise,  —  and  yet  bravely  suffering,  and  calmly 
dying  that  the  nation  might  live. 

"  '  This,'  said  he,  '  is  the  side  of  the  war  that  the  peo 
ple  can  never  learn  from  the  reports  of  officers,  or  the 
letters  of  war  correspondents.  When  the  war  is  over 
you  must  give  us  a  book  of  your  experiences,  must  show 
us  the  heavenly  side  of  the  war,  and  I  will  help  you  get 
before  the  world  with  it.' 

"  My  interest  in  Mr.  Fields  dates  from  that  day.  I 
never  afterwards  heard  his  name  spoken,  or  saw  it  men 
tioned  in  the  papers,  without  recalling  his  courtesy  and 
kindness,  and  thinking  of  him  as  a  man  to  whom  a  woman 
might  go  for  advice  and  assistance. 

"  Years  after,  when  I  hud  returned  to  New  England 
to  reside,  I  remember  how  all  who  believed  in  the  enfran 
chisement  of  women  were  thrilled  with  his  speech,  made, 
I  believe,  in  Portsmouth,  N.  H.  In  strong  and  grand 
words  he  expressed  his  sympathy  with  the  struggling 
reform,  not  as  hopeful  in  its  promise  as  now,  pronouncing 
it  founded  on  eternal  justice,  and  predicting  its  ultimate 
success  at  no  very  remote  day.  Glad  and  grateful,  I 
hastened  to  write  him  a  note  of  thanks,  and  to  tell  him 
of  the  good  cheer  his  words  had  given  us.  His  reply 
was  even  stronger  and  more  earnest  than  his  public  ad 
dress;  and  the  brief  note  soon  found  its  way  into  one  of 
the  autograph  albums,  arranged  and  sold  in  aid  of  a 
public  charity. 

"  Once  more  Mr.  Fields  increased  woman's  indebted 
ness  to  him  by  organizing  and  successfully  carrying  out 
a  free  course  of  twelve  lectures  for  women  on  English 


192  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

literature.  So  excellent  were  they,  and  so  highly  prized, 
that  hardly  was  the  large  hall  sufficient  for  the  accom- 
modation  of  those  who  sought  to  attend  them.  We  had 
all  come  to  recognize  in  Mr.  Fields  a  friend  of  woman, 
who  desired  for  her  equal  educational  and  legal  advan 
tages  with  man. 

"If  he  arranged  for  women  a  course  of  literary  lec 
tures,  his  programme  included  women  lecturers  as  well 
as  men.  If,  at  his  charming  summer  retreat  by  the  sea, 
he  provided  a  series  of  Sunday  discourses  for  his  towns 
people,  he  invited  women  to  the  pulpit,  which  he  tempo 
rarily  controlled,  and  gave  them  the  same  hearty  welcome 
he  accorded  to  clergymen. 

"  Was  a  woman  in  doubt  concerning  the  worth  of  her 
untried  lecture  or  undelivered  essay?  he  placed  his  time, 
talent,  and  experience  at  her  service,  criticising  so  kindly 
as  to  win  her  gratitude,  even  when  the  criticism  was 
severe.  Ay,  and  when  sometimes  an  unasked  loan  of 
money  was  needed,  because  of  the  poverty  of  the  would- 
be  debutante,  it  was  voluntarily  tendered  ;  —  and  I  have 
heard  Mr.  Fields  declare  that  rarely  were  such  debts  un 
paid. 

"  In  conservative  and  cultivated  circles,  where  his  in 
terest  in  woman's  advancement  was  not  known,  in  the 
far  West,  where  his  advocacy  of  woman  suffrage  had 
never  been  advertised,  he  was  as  generous  in  his  recog 
nition,  and  as  just  in  his  demands  for  woman,  as  in  the 
society  where  this  had  come  to  be  expected  of  him. 

"  He  never  passed  me  on  the  street  so  hurriedly  that 
he  had  not  time  for  a  word  of  cheer  or  encouragement, 
or  an  inquiry  into  the  progress  of  a  reform,  in  which  he 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.       193 

believed  as  strongly  as  myself.  It  is  not  yet  possible  for 
me  to  realize  that  all  this  is  over,  that  these  kindnesses 
are  ended,  that  his  work  is  finished.  For  he  was  so  full 
of  life  and  heartiness,  that  it  is  impossible  to  think  of 
him  as  having  passed  into  the  land  of  silence. 

"  During  my  brief  stay  in  England  I  am  continually 
reminded  of  Mr.  Fields.  For  he  brought  us  into  such 
acquaintanceship  with  the  English  4  Authors  of  Yester 
day,'  that,  as  I  come  upon  reminders  of  Dickens,  Thack 
eray,  Wordsworth,  De  Quincey,  and  other  masters  of 
literature,  —  sometimes  in  galleries  of  pictures,  sometimes 
in  abbeys,  cathedrals,  and  churchyards,  — their  historian 
and  interpreter  immediately  rises  to  my  memory,  who 
has  now,  like  them,  solved  the  eternal  secret,  and  divined 
the  great  mystery  of  death. 

"  I  cannot  think  of  him  as  dead,  —  nor  will  I.  For  as 
he  passed  through  the  low  gateway  that  opens  outward, 
and  never  inward,  who  can  doubt  that  he  entered  c  an 
other  chamber  of  the  King's,  larger  than  this,  and  love 
lier  ?  '  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"  MARY  A.  LIVERMORE." 

Again  I  return  to  the  everyday  incidents  of  the 
diary :  — 

"  A  young  gentleman  at  dinner  yesterday  gave  me  the 
following  anecdote  of  Dickens.  He  went  one  day  to 
hear  him  read,  and  was  invited  afterward  by  a  friend  to 
be  presented  to  Dickens.  C.  D.  (this  was  most  charac 
teristic)  unnecessarily  asked  him  what  he,  the  young 
listener,  thought  of  his  reading  !  '  Since  you  ask  me,' 
he  replied,  4 1  think  the  only  criticism  I  could  make  upon 
13 


194  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

anything  which  has  given  me  so  much  pleasure  would  be 
to  say,  quite  frankly,  that  I  think  it  somewhat  too  dra 
matic  !  ! '  Whereat  Mr,  Dickens  bowed,  thanked  him  for 
his  opinion,  and  the  scene  terminated.  Years  after,  this 
gentleman  was  himself  reading  from  Tennyson's  poems 
to  an  audience  at  the  Isle  of  Wight.  After  it  was  over, 
Mr.  Dickens  came  to  speak  to  him  from  among  the  au 
dience.  Mr.  expressed  himself  greatly  honored, 

and  said  he  was  glad  to  have  been  unconscious  of  his 
distinguished  auditor.  '  But  what,  sir,  do  you  say  of 
my  reading  ? '  '  Since  you  ask  me,'  said  Dickens,  bow 
ing,  with  a  laugh  running  all  over  his  face.  '  I  must 
tell  you  that  I  do  not  find  it  quite  dramatic  enough ! ' 

"  MANCHESTER-BY-THE-SEA.  August,  1872.  The 
fog-bell  tolls  all  day  and  all  night.  It  is  very  silent  here, 
yet  nature  is  melodious,  the  airs  are  soft,  the  odors  ex 
quisite. 

"  Last  night  Mr.  Fields  read  aloud  a  manuscript  poem 
called  c  The  Children  of  Lebanon,'  with  great  pride  and 
feeling,  as  a  surprise  to  our  little  circle. 

"  The  fog-bell  continues  tolling.  '  Are  we  not  to  have 
some  rain,'  he  said,  to  an  old  farmer  here.  '  I  guess  we 
be,'  was  the  reply.  'I  see  them  'ere  thunder-pillars 
leanin'  up  agin'  the  Northwest !  '  The  sea  still  groans. 
Mr.  Fields  fell  into  talk  yesterday  about  his  boyhood. 
The  best  of  Scott's  novels  were  not  in  his  boy's  library  I 
Whatever  there  was  he  learned  to  know  thoroughly. 
4  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,'  of  course,  was  a  prime  favorite. 
There  was  a  poem  called  '  King  Alfred,'  which  obtained 
a  horrible  reality  in  his  eyes.  He  heard  his  two  old 
uncles  talking  it  over  one  day,  when  he  was  a  child  of 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  195 

six  or  eight  years  old.  '  How  they  bent  the  old  man,' 
he  heard  them  say. 

"  CHICAGO,  October,  1872.  Most  hospitably  received 
and  entertained.  Beautiful  autumnal  weather ;  leaves 
aglow  in  the  park  (chiefly  oaks)  ;  the  great  lake  Michi 
gan  quiet  and  blue.  Went  early  to  see  the  burnt  dis 
trict.  Long  rows  of  new  stone  fronts  rise  loftily  where 
one  year  ago  all  was  dust  and  ashes ;  but  the  trees  stand 
ing  with  naked  arms  stretching  to  the  sky,  give  pa 
thetic  evidence  of  what  has  been.  The  fine  stone  and 
iron  walls,  too,  cracked  and  ruined,  show  where  grand 
residences,  surrounded  by  gardens,  once  stood.  Every 
body  thinks  everybody  else  'much  changed/  The  peo 
ple  begin  to  meet  socially  now,  almost  for  the  first  time 

since  the  public  calamity.  tells  me  she  has  never 

been  to  see  the  ruins  of  her  home,  although  living  in 
close  proximity.  It  is  hard  to  find  people.  Our  first 
desire  was  to  discover  Robert  Collyer ;  but  although 
Unity  Church  was  rising  from  its  ashes,  there  was  no 
clue  by  which  we  could  immediately  find  its  pastor. 

"Lecture  in  the  evening.  'Masters  of  the  Situation.' 
Large  audience,  and  very  enthusiastic.  .  .  .  Went  to 
Davenport  to  lecture.  Rode  nine  hours  in  the  cars,  and 
spoke  that  same  evening ;  took  the  train  again  after  the 
lecture  and  returned  to  Chicago  before  the  world  was 
fairly  astir.  Noble  audience  at  Davenport;  first  glimpse 
of  Mississippi  River.  .  .  .  Surprised  to  find  many 
Greeley  men  hereabout.  The  farmers  believe  in  Gree- 
ley  ;  they  like  his  sympathy  with  them,  and  his  endeav 
ors  for  settling  the  new  country. 

"  BOSTON,  November.     Mr.  Fields  is  at  work  on  his 


196  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

'  Tennyson '  lecture,  which  he  gives  again  to-morrow 
night.  .  .  . 

"  November  9.  The  most  fearful  fire  New  England  has 
ever  known  is  raging  in  Boston. 

"  November  21.  Mr.  Fields  gave  '  The  Masters  of  the 
Situation,'  before  the  Young  Men's  Union.  The  subject 
seems  doubled  in  significance  since  our  disaster,  hundreds 
of  young  men  and  women  being  thrown  out  of  employ 
ment  for  the  winter.  Everybody's  time  is  more  or  less 
devoted  to  trying  to  bridge  over  this  ugly  chasm.  .  .  . 
Our  home  never  looked  so  beautiful,  nor  seemed  so  refresh 
ing  !  .  .  .  I  look  with  great  satisfaction  at  the  long  row  of 
good  books  Mr.  Fields  brought  into  the  American  world 
while  he  was  still  a  member  of  the  publishing  house.  .  .  . 
Our  great  treat  this  week  has  been  reading  the  second 
volume  of  Forster's  '  Life  of  Dickens,'  which  was  for 
warded  in  sheets.  We  hardly  breathed  till  we  had  read 
every  word.  .  .  .  Such  unending  power  of  work,  such 
universal  care  for  others,  such  intense  absorption  in 
whatever  was  before  him,  has  never  been  portrayed  be 
fore.  .  .  .  The  fun  and  pathos  of  the  book  brings  his 
dear  presence  back  to  us  again  with  intense  vividness. 
Mr.  Fields  wrote  at  once  to  Forster.  .  .  . 

"Hunt's  studio  having  burned,  —  utterly  burned  to 
nothing,  —  he  has  bravely  taken  a  new  one,  and  is  at 
work,  though  his  whole  youth,  he  says,  seems  to  have 
gone  up  in  the  flames. 

"  April,  1873.  Mr.  Fields  at  home  writing  away  upon 
his  Charles  Lamb  lecture  with  great  assiduity.  He  is 
enjoying  his  work,  but  writes  only  too  steadily.  I  must 
contrive  some  kind  of  diversion. 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.        197 

"  HANOVER,  N.  H.,  June.  Most  hospitable  reception. 
Pleasant  old-fashioned  house  under  green  elm  trees.  The 
lecture  was  given  in  the  church  where  Webster,  Choate, 
and  others  have  addressed  the  College  for  many  years. 
Every  kind  of  festivity  proper  to  the  occasion  ;  even  a 
serenade  ! 

"MANCHESTER,  Sunday,  August.  Walked  to  church. 
Mr.  Fields  found  himself  lame ;  returning  stopped  at  the 
doctor's,  who  pronounced  serious  trouble  at  the  knee,  and 
gave  iodine  wash. 

"Monday.  Mr.  Fields  went  to  town,  saw  a  surgeon,  and 
came  back  bringing  splint,  etc.,  etc.,  also  two  guests.  .  .  . 

"  September.  Knee  is  no  better.  Neighbors  and 
friends  all  kind  and  attentive.  The  hours  do  not  seem 
to  be  long  to  the  patient.  He  is  cheerful.  Reading 
Channing's  '  Life  of  Thoreau  '  with  great  satisfaction. 

"  CHARLES  STREET,  October.  Mr.  Fields  still  lame, 
but  has  had  a  comfortable  week.  Charles  Sumner  dined 
with  us.  He  seemed  less  well  than  of  late.  He  said 
it  was  frequently  his  habit  to  spend  fourteen  consecu 
tive  hours  at  his  desk  or  in  reading.  The  active  exercise 
of  composition  was,  of  course,  agreeable  to  him  in  cer 
tain  moods,  but  the  passive  exercise  of  reading  was  a 
never-ending  delight.  He  spoke  of  Lord  Brougham, 
Mrs.  Norton  and  her  two  beautiful  sisters.  .  .  .  There 
was  much  wit  and  humor  that  day  at  table.  The  ladies 
lingered  long  after  coffee  and  cigars  were  brought,  that 
they  might  not  lose  the  conversation.  Heard  a  good 
story  of  a  deaf  man  lately  married,  who  was  asked  at 
the  Club  about  his  bride  :  '  Is  she  pretty  ?  '  '  No,'  re 
plied  the  deaf  gentleman.  4  No,  she  is  not,  but  she  will 
be  when  her  father  dies  ! ' 


198  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  November.  Mr.  Fields's  course  of  lectures  at  the 
Lowell  Institute  began  while  he  was  still  wearing  a 
splint.  Amusing  anecdotes  connected  with  his  lectures 
are  continually  recurring.  He  met  a  man  a  day  or  two 
ago  who  said  he  liked  his  lectures,  '  for  there  did  n't 
seem  to  be  any  of  that  shycanery  in  'em  so  many  people 
now-a-days  put  in.'  Another  said,  4  his  wife  was  amazed 
to  see  how  interested  she  got  in  hearin'  about  these  folks 
she'd  never  known  nothin'  about  before;  but  she'd  like 
to  ask  who  that  '  North  '  was  anyhow  !  (This  was  said 
after  the  lecture  on  '  Christopher  North,  John  Wilson.') 

"  His  own  relation  of  an  evening  in  a  certain  town  of 
Massachusetts,  where  a  long  train  of  people  came  up  to 
be  introduced  in  succession  with  a  ready-made  speech, 
was  very  dramatic  and  comic.  Last  in  the  line  came  a 
grandmother  holding  her  grandchild  by  the  hand.  Hav 
ing  made  the  regulation  speech  herself,  the  child  also  ad 
dressed  him  with  the  same  words  and  in  a  piping  voice, 
which  proved  almost  too  much  for  the  gravity  of  the 
lecturer.  A  certain  definition  of  eloquence  by  one  of  his 
hearers  was  also  given  that  same  night.  '  That 's  what 
I  call  ellerquence,'  he  said  ;  4 1  tell  my  wife  I  allus  know 
what  seems  to  me  ellerquence  by  kind  o'  shivers  which 
runs  up  and  down  my  back.  Well !  In  one  of  your 
pieces  I  felt  them  shivers  all  over ;  —  that 's  what  I  call 
real  ellerquence.' 

'•''August  31,  1874.  Ground  broken  for  our  sea-side 
house.  The  stone-cutters  turned  in  with  a  will. 

"  BOSTON,  September.     Very  hot.     Glad  to  think  that 
«  Thunder  Bolt  Hill '  is  ours. 
:  "  PLYMOUTH,  N.  H.     Mr.  Fields  continues  at  work  on 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.       199 

his  Wordsworth  lecture.  He  has  just  read,  first  with 
amusement,  and  then  wonderingly,  that  characteristic  pas 
sage  where  Wordsworth  says  of  his  own  poetry  :  no  one 
who  has  come  at  length  to  an  admiration  of  his  (Words 
worth's)  poems  has  ever  been  known  to  survive  their 
satisfaction." 

"  Monday  Evening,  September  14.  A  soft  haze  has 
overspread  the  hills  to-day,  indicating  heat,  but  the  cool 
breezes  blow  so  delightfully  about  this  place  that  we  have 
not  felt  it.  Took  a  long  drive  to  Squam  Lake  and  Hol- 
derness  over  a  steep  hill.  It  was  very  like  some  of  the 
passes,  perhaps  Kirkstone,  in  the  English  lake  country, 
and  no  less  beautiful ;  but  the  solitude  here  is  more  vast 
and  unbroken.  We  passed  a  square  brick  house  with  a 
roof  of  shingles,  belted  around  by  a  forest,  several  miles 
from  any  settlement,  and  a  mile  at  least,  I  should  say, 
from  a  neighbor.  The  side-door  was  wide  open,  and  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  woman  reading  there  as  we  drove 
by.  We  found  the  blue  gentian  and  wild  apples  by  the 
roadside. 

"  Mr.  Fields  has  gone  this  evening  to  give  his  lecture 
on  Tennyson  to  the  Normal  School,  the  only  school  of 
this  character  in  the  State.  It  has  struggled  hard  for 
existence,  and  is  barely  on  a  firm  foundation  now.  He 
likes  the  principal  of  the  school,  and  finds  him  interested 
in  his  work. 

"  Walked  across  the  broad  meadows  in  the  sunset, 
and  paused  under  the  drooping  elms  to  watch  the  long 
shadows  and  yellow  light  play  over  the  grass,  and  finally 
left  the  whole  in  dusky  shade,  with  a  glory  shining  on 
the  hills  around. 


200  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  HANOVER,  Thursday  Evening,  September  17.  In  the 
house  of  our  kind  friend,  Professor  S.  We  came  from 
Plymouth  to  Hanover  through  the  Pemigewasset  Valley, 
and  went  thence  to  the  Connecticut.  The  mist  which 
has  lain  over  the  hills  for  the  last  few  days,  prognosti 
cating  the  much  needed  rain,  was  thick  enough  to  con 
ceal  some  of  the  high  peaks,  but  the  soft  gray  light  made 
the  landscape  only  more  beautiful  with  its  gay  maple 
boughs  and  brilliant  green. 

"  We  soon  came  to  the  little  town  of  Haverhill,  beau 
tifully  situated  in  the  valley  of  the  Connecticut.  The 
hills  rise  all  around  it.  Nature  in  New  England  can 
hardly  be  seen  to  better  advantage.  Young  girls  were 
strolling,  and  perhaps  studying,  on  the  hill -sides, — 
flowers  are  cultivated ;  there  is  a  seminary ;  altogether 
the  people  seemed  in  a  fair  way  to  use  and  understand 
their  resources.  There  had  been  a  three  weeks'  drought, 
and  the  roads  were  ankle  deep  with  dust,  but  the  clouds 
were  gathering,  and  a  tender  gray  sky  overspread  the 
beautiful  scene  as  we  drove  across  the  river  and  through 
the  village  of  Newbury  to  the  hotel.  We  found  a  neat 
and  comfortable  harbor.  A  room  high  up,  but  the  view 
across  the  meadows  to  the  neighboring  hills  was  en- 
trancingly  beautiful.  We  stationed  ourselves  at  separate 
windows,  and  could  not  take  our  eyes  from  the  scene. 
Presently  we  sallied  out  for  a  walk  to  a  hill  called 
Montebello,  which  overhangs  the  lovely  vale.  The  day 
was  calm,  with  an  occasional  sunbeam  straying  through 
clouds  and  walking  across  the  soft  green  carpet,  perhaps 
two  hundred  feet  below.  The  sheep  and  cows  wandered 
slowly  and  luxuriously  over  the  cool  vast  feeding  ground, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  201 

and  large  elms  and  maples  cast  shadows  hardly  less 
beautiful  than  the  trees  themselves.  The  birds  were 
chattering  around  us,  and  their  voices  alone  broke  the 
silence.  The  calmness  of  eternity  seemed  to  reign  there. 
I  felt  sorry  for  those  of  our  countrymen  who,  in  igno 
rance  of  these  blissful  retreats,  fly  to  Europe  as  if  all 
beauty  had  been  left  behind  by  the  stern  Pilgrims. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  world  more  beautiful  than  the 
valley  of  the  Connecticut  and  the  Vermont  hill-country. 
It  is  yet  to  be  appreciated  fully. 

We  drove  away  the  next  day,  although  a  soft  misty 
atmosphere  let  down  a  little  rain  from  time  to  time. 
Went  on  to  Fairlee  and  Orford,  —  the  river  always  in 
sight,  and  the  scenery  rich  and  various.  Rain  came 
fast  by  the  time  we  reached  the  hotel  at  Orford,  and  it 
was  dark  early.  A  queer  hotel,  full  of  drovers  and  coun 
trymen  with  no  clean  hands,  who  sat  at  the  same  table 
with  us,  and  devoured  endless  varieties  of  excellent  food 
as  if  it  were  all  their  right.  The  poor,  pale  little  land 
lady,  with  a  crying  baby  on  her  arm,  told  me, — in  ex 
change  for  my  remark  that  I  should  like  another  jug  of 
water  in  our  bedroom,  —  that  she  buried  her  eldest  child, 
a  beautiful  boy,  in  the  spring.  She  seemed  to  have 
left  her  heart  chiefly  in  the  child's  grave,  and  the  house 
went  on  as  best  it  might.  When  I  thought  of  that  little 
woman  attempting  to  provide  pies  and  cakes,  and  the  va 
rious  niceties  with  which  the  table  was  covered,  for  those 
exasperating  drovers,  who  ate  as  if  they  were  enlarged 
locusts  sent  to  create  a  famine,  I  grew  quite  indignant. 
We  walked  about  the  beautiful  village  in  the  dusk,  but 
the  rain  began  to  fall  heavily,  and  we  were  driven  in- 


202  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

doors  and  thence  to  bed,  for  lack  of  good  lights  and  a 
place  to  sit. 

"  Drove  to  Fairlee  in  the  rain,  and  ordered  crab-apple 
trees  of  a  good  old  man,  who  has  made  this  whole  region 
of  the  country  beautiful  from  his  orchard,  sending  the 
trees  up  and  down  the  river  wherever  people  are  wise 
enough  to  want  them.  Saw  another  country  interior. 
A  gray-haired  woman,  the  mother  of  several  children,  all 
dead  save  one,  the  youngest,  who  was  playing  about. 
She  was  at  work  making  the  everlasting  pies.  She  said 
4  the  country  was  beautiful  about  there  for  those  as  had 
time  to  look  at  it.  For  her  part,  there  was  so  much  work 
to  do  in  their  house  she  never  had  time  to  go  out  much  ! ' 
She  was  rapidly  moving  between  her  huge  cooking-stove 
and  the  ironing-table  as  she  talked.  Called  to  decide 
on  the  apple  trees,  and  returning  to  the  sitting-room  a 
young  girl  was  ironing  at  the  table.  From  her  rather 
trim  costume,  cut  in  city  fashion,  I  ventured  to  ask  if 
she  lived  there.  4  Oh  no  ! '  she  said,  *  her  home  was  in 
Chicago.  She  had  come  to  make  her  relatives  a  short 
visit,  but  as  there  was  only  one  laundress  in  the  village, 
and  she  was  busy,  she  concluded  to  do  up  her  own  dress.' 
All  of  which  was  very  commendable,  but  she  did  not 
seem  to  find  pleasure  in  her  novel  experience.  I  said, 
4  How  you  must  delight  in  this  beautiful  place  after  Chi 
cago.'  '  Well,'  she  said,  lowering  her  voice  so  that  her 
kind  hostess  should  not  hear,  4  this  is  all  very  well  for 
a  few  days,  but  it 's  terribly  lonely.' 

44  We  were  glad  to  get  away  from  the  atmosphere  of 
those  women.  In  a  paradise  of  natural  beauty,  with  kind 
neighbors  and  some  interesting  people,  too,  within  the 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  203 

radius  of  a  mile,  they  allowed  themselves  to  be  utterly 
ignorant  of  the  glory  of  nature  as  well  as  the  human  com 
panionship  they  might  have  had.  Drove  a  mile  farther, 
into  a  solitude  indeed,  upon  the  hills,  to  the  cottage  of 

.  We  had  no  time  to  get  out,  neither  could  we 

do  so,  because  the  grass  grew  all  round  the  door  and  was 
very  wet.  We  sent  in  word  who  was  there,  and  Mrs. 

,  slipping  on  overshoes  and  taking  shawl  and 

umbrella,  ran  out  to  speak  to  us.  Here  was  a  difference  ! 
4 1  never  go  out  of  that  little  brown  hut,'  she  said,  '  from 
the  time  of  the  first  snow-fall  until  spring  returns,  and 
sometimes  when  I  get  discouraged  with  the  dull  routine 
of  things  I  go  into  my  own  room  where  I  keep  all  the 
books  you  have  sent  me,  and  I  take  down  Emerson  or 
Carlyle,  or  some  other  friend,  and  I  have  all  the  society 
I  need,  and  go  back  by  and  by  refreshed  to  my  work/ 
Tears  sprang  to  our  eyes  as  she  talked.  It  was  good  to 
see  her,  and  we  shall  not  meet  again  as  strangers." 

"  October  9.  The  busy  season  of  the  year  is  again 
opening.  Mr.  Fields  has  lectured  three  times  this  week 
in  different  places.  At  one  town  a  little  girl  of  nine 
years  came  up  to  him  after  the  lecture,  put  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  !  The  child  clung  to 
him  until  he  left,  although  she  had  never  seen  him  be 
fore.  He  brought  home  superb  flowers. 

"  In  the  train  he  met  a  man,  a  total  stranger,  who  in 
troduced  himself,  and  then  proceeded,  little  by  little,  to 
give  him  the  full  story  of  his  life.  A  strange  and  mov 
ing  history  it  was,  and  the  way  in  which  he  clung  to  his 
hearer  was  something  extraordinary.  He  was  a  student, 
and  a  man  of  digested  learning  also,  who  had  already 


204  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

made  his  mark  in  literature,  but  '  the  sorrows  of  that 
line  '  were  unfolded  with  the  directness  of  childhood." 

"  NEW  YORK,  February  7,  1875.  Dickens's  birthday. 
A  cold,  raw,  clouded  day,  contrasting  with  the  wonderful 
floods  of  yellow  sunshine  which  we  have  enjoyed  ever 
since  we  left  Boston. 

"  Came  to  Saratoga,  where  Mr.  Fields  spoke  the  same 
evening.  On  the  way  in  the  yellow  of  the  cold  sunset 
the  monument  to  young  Ellsworth  was  pointed  out  to 
us  on  the  summit  of  a  hill.  The  marble  eagle  on  the  top 
shone  in  the  bright  air. 

"  Pleasant  reception  and  warm  fire  at  Saratoga.  The 
night  very  cold,  clear  and  starry,  the  ground  covered 
with  snow.  A  4  lovely  audience  '  assembled  to  greet  the 
lecturer,  who  came  home  warmed  by  the  exertion  of 
speaking.  We  had  a  comfortable  little  supper,  chiefly 
on  baked  potatoes,  by  the  side  of  our  bedroom  fire,  and 
went  most  comfortably  to  sleep,  in  spite  of  the  inquiring 
glance  one  must  always  cast  at  a  strange  bed  in  a  hotel 
of  mediocre  achievements  with  respect  to  cooking.  The 
next  morning  took  a  brisk  ramble  on  the  crisp  snow. 
The  change  was  delightful.  We  had  left  Boston  almost 
impassable  —  the  snow  of  the  streets  had  been  churned 
into  a  kind  of  gray  meal,  which  clogged  both  wheel  car 
riages  and  runners,  and  the  sidewalks  were  like  rivulets 
with  slippery  bottoms.  Here  everything  was  so  clean  ! 
Cold,  certainly,  but  fresh,  and  bright,  and  healthy. 

"  That  day  to  Poughkeepsie,  where  Mr.  Fields  lectured 
again.  Here  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  though  still 
cold,  there  was  little  snow  to  be  seen.  He  came  home 
rather  tired  dfcom  Jiis  lecture.  They  had  given  him  no 


AND   PERSONAL    SKETCHES.  205 

lamp  for  the  desk,  only  foot-lights !  !  and  general  lofty 
illumination.  The  result  was,  he  cut  his  lecture  very 
short.  Again,  supper  in  our  room,  but  '  the  man  '  had 
kept  him  talking  some  time  below  stairs,  and  he  was  a 
little  more  tired.  However,  we  rose  soon  after  six  the 
next  morning,  and  went  to  Vassar  College,  where  at  nine 
o'clock  he  made  an  address  to  the  students.  There  were 
three  hundred  and  seventy-five  young  girls  in  the  build 
ing,  and  nearly  that  number  must  have  attended  the 
morning  lecture.  It  was  an  audience  of  the  best  kind. 

o 

He  was  as  much  pleased  as  they  were.  Afterward,  we 
went  over  the  building  and  the  observatory,  whither  we 
went  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  Professor  Maria  Mitchell, 
whom  the  students  love  dearly.  A  bust  of  Mrs.  Somer- 
ville  was  in  her  room,  presented  her  by  Frances  Power 
Cobbe.  We  saw  the  telescope  and  instruments,  also 
an  arrangement  or  adjustment  of  lines  for  measurement 
which  may  be  ranked  among  the  '  discoveries.'  It  is 
Miss  Mitchell's  own.  Instrument  and  room  answer  their 
purpose  admirably,  but  twenty  thousand  dollars  are  re 
quired  to  perpetuate  the  work  here  begun.  One  pair  of 
hands  may  hold  it  for  a  time,  but  without  a  foundation 
there  is  danger  of  loss  in  the  future.  ...  At  night 
we  reached  New  York.  Mr.  Fields  was  completely  ex 
hausted. 

"  June,  1875.  First  overtures  from  the  Southern 
States  to  a  real  reconciliation.  To-day  three  Southern 
regiments  have  arrived  in  Boston  to  help  Massachusetts 
keep  the  centennial  celebration  of  the  battle  of  Bunker's 
Hill.  One  comes  from  Maryland,  one  from  Baltimore, 
and  one  company  from  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  The 


206  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

latter  contains  only  forty-eight  men,  but  it  is  the  fact  of 
their  coming  at  all  rather  than  the  numbers  which  is  im 
pressive.  Bayard  Taylor  came  from  New  York  to  report 
the  event  for  the  4  Tribune.'  After  dinner  went  to  hear 
Dr.  Holmes  and  Dr.  Ellis,  at  the  opening  of  the  exhi 
bition  of  relics.  There  was  hardly  a  dry  eye  when 
Holmes  finished  reading. 

"  William  Hunt  at  tea.  Took  out  a  letter  from  Du- 
veneck  thanking  him  for  the  word  of  artistic  recognition 
he  so  greatly  needed.  '  Ah !  he  's  got  the  right  spirit/ 
said  Hunt,  'he  loves  art  better  than  his  native  city.  He 
loves  the  place  where  he  was  born  and  bred ;  we  all  do 
so,  and  we  can't  help  hankering  after  it ;  but  he  loves 
art  more,  and  he  will  go  wherever  he  can  find  the  most 
room  for  that.  But  how  impossible  it  is  to  drum  art 
into  people  if  they  can't  see  it.  ...  They  talk  about 
Millet's  not  taking  pains !  Why,  he  worked  several 
weeks  in  my  studio  in  Paris  one  winter,  and  was  three 
weeks  constantly  upon  one  hand.  The  truth  is,  painters 
shouldn't  talk.  They  should  have  their  mouths  sewed 
up  tight,  and  DO  the  thing,  not  talk  about  it.'  .  .  . 

"  July  5,  1875.  Writing  in  our  own  cottage  at  Man 
chester. 

"  This  year  an  idea  which  was  never  absent  from  his 
mind,  of  teaching  young  people  how  and  what  to  read, 
began  to  take  shape  in  his  thought.  I  find  the  printed 
title-page  of  a  book  before  me,  which  was  then  projected. 
It  was  to  be  called,  4  Talks  with  Young  Scholars  by  an 
Old  Scholar.'  And  the  motto  runs  — 

" '  What  at  your  book  so  hard  ?  .  .  . 

I  '11  talk  with  this  good  fellow.'  —  SHAKESPEARE; 


AND   PERSONAL    SKETCHES.  207 

"  Several  pages  of  the  c  First  Talk,'  were  also  printed  ; 
but  it  is  probable  that  the  continual  use  he  was  able  to 
make  of  all  his  material  in  his  never-ending  lectures 
caused  him  to  postpone  any  such  publication.1  Lectur 
ing  (out  of  Boston)  usually  signified  something  more 
than  the  simple  delivery  of  the  evening  discourse  ;  there 
was  always  a  high  school  or  seminary  in  waiting,  asking 
for  a  few  words  on  the  following  morning,  or  the  previ 
ous  afternoon.  His  tact  with  young  people,  and  his 
power  of  interesting  them  in  his  subjects,  was  one  of 
his  peculiar  gifts ;  perhaps  I  ought  to  add  also  one  of 
his  peculiar  enjoyments,  therefore  he  yielded  the  more 
readily  to  the  continual  solicitation  of  teachers  for  his 
assistance. 

1  The  following  sketch  of  topics  for  various  chapters,  with  sug 
gestions  for  titles,  were  found  among  his  papers :  — 

(HALF-HOUR)   TALKS 
WITH    YOUNG   SCHOLARS, 

BY 

AN  OLD  SCHOLAR. 

TOPICS.  135 

Habits  of  Study.  Self- Control.                                     g  <§; 

Public  Speaking.  Composition.                                     ?>    <? 

Reverence.  Patriotism. 

Punctuality.  Enthusiasm. 

Heading.  |.   s. 

Conversation.  *?  ^ 

Exercise.  S.   S, 

??*      ?f 

Handwriting. 

Cold  Water.  ^  £ 

Courtesy.  g:  ^ 

Good  Temper. 

Debt.  &'  S 


208  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"]n  the  autumn  of  this  year  Mr.  Fields  again  left 
home  for  Chicago,  and  a  western  lecturing  tour.  Again, 
we  enjoyed  a  hospitable  reception,  and  saw  much  that 
was  interesting  under  our  friend  Robert  Collyer's  guid 
ance.  Among  other  friendships  begun,  not  ended,  there 
was  one  with  William  Clarke  who,  in  what  might  seem 
unsympathetic  surroundings,  had  preserved  his  youthful 
love  and  enthusiasm  untarnished.  His  treasures  were 
not  among  seen  and  temporal  things. 

"  Came  to  Beloit,  Wisconsin.  A  pleasant  town  full  of 
comfortable  homes  ;  but  the  youth  who  had  taken  the 
responsibility  of  sending  for  the  lecturer  in  a  moment  of 
enthusiasm,  neither  understood  the  business  he  had  un 
dertaken,  nor  had  counted  the  cost.  It  was  too  early  in 
the  season  at  best,  and  the  town  was  a  small  one.  There 
was  no  audience.  The  poor  young  man  had  no  money 
to  meet  expenses,  and  was  distressed  beyond  measure. 
Mr.  Fields  saw  through  the  situation  from  the  first  mo 
ment,  and  fully  appreciated  the  ludicrous  side  of  it.  Af 
ter  all  was  over,  he  withdrew  the  frightened  youth  into 
a  private  room,  saw  that  expenses  were  paid,  and  sent 
the  poor  fellow  off  rejoicing,  and  promising  never  to  do 
so  any  more. 

"  Left  Beloit  before  dawn,  rising  at  four  A.  M.  for  the 
purpose,  and  going  breakfastless  to  the  station  in  the 
dark. 

"  MILWAUKEE,  Sunday.  First  Sunday  afternoon 
lecture  ever  given  in  this  city.  It  was  a  great  success ; 
at  the  Academy  of  Music.  Beautiful  city,  but  '  cold  as 
Christmas.' 

"  RACINE.    Lectured.    Hotel  overlooking  the  waters  of 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  209 

Lake  Michigan  in  the  moonlight.  Starting  early  the  next 
day,  we  hardly  arrived  at  Evanston  (for  the  evening 
lecture)  in  time  to  dress.  Up  early  again  next  day,  and 
on  through  Chicago  to  Rockford.  Walked  through  the 
town  in  the  afternoon.  We  crossed  Fox  River,  made 
famous  by  Abraham  Lincoln's  story.  Mr.  Fields  is  a 
little  more  tired  and  homesick  than  usual,  but  this  is  the 
first  really  home-sick  place  we  have  seen. 

"  Madison,  the  capital  of  Wisconsin,  one  of  the  clear 
est,  cleanest,  and  most  beautiful  of  western  cities.  The 
College  has  four  hundred  students,  an  equal  number  of 
women  and  men.  The  State  House  is  like  a  small  Greek 
temple,  surrounded  with  trees.  We  were  most  hospit 
ably  entertained  in  the  beautiful  home  of  Ole  Bull.  Left 
Madison  at  midnight  for  Chicago,  where  we  found  our 
selves  at  half-past  seven  in  the  morning,  and  no  carriages 
at  the  station.  Gathering  our  wraps  we  walked  across 
the  still  half-sleeping  city  to  the  hotel.  The  morning 
air  and  exercise  revived  us,  but  in  a  few  hours  we  were 
in  the  cars  again,  hot  and  airless,  and  on  arrival  at  a 
place  called  Sterling  found  a  broiling  fire  in  our 
stived-up  bedroom.  The  lecture  was  on  4  Cheerful 
ness  !  ' 

"  The  hall  was  crowded,  though  it  is  a  place  of  only 
five  thousand  inhabitants.  People  pressed  about  him 
eagerly  ;  one  woman  came  eighteen  miles  to  talk  of  her 
brother,  Ralph  Keeler,  whom  Mr.  Fields  had  known,  and 
to  hear  the  lecture.  As  he  walked  out  in  the  morning, 
a  rough  man  driving  a  country  wagon  came  up  to  him, 
jumped  from  his  seat,  pulled  off  his  buckskin  glove,  and 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  pay  his  humble  tribute  of  grati- 
14 


210  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

tude  for  the  lecture,  which  he  said  had  done  him  a  world 
of  good.  '  Long  after  you  have  forgotten  this  place  we 
shall  remember  you,'  one  of  his  listeners  said. 

"  OMAHA,  NEBRASKA,  October  17.  Pretty  tired  after 
a  long  night  and  half  day  from  Sterling  to  this  place. 
The  whole  distance  was  like  some  noble  garden,  exquisite 
in  sunset,  moonlight,  and  morning.  Here  a  fierce  wind 
is  blowing.  It  is  dusty,  and  we  begin  to  see  the  life 
Bret  Harte  describes  in  the  faces,  manners,  and  bearing 
of  the  people.  We  see  fine  horses  and  stalwart  men. 
Everybody  is  kind  and  attentive  to  us.  '  Opera  House  ' 
crowded.  Men  came  in  from  the  prairie  in  high  boots 
to  hear  the  lecture,  leaving  their  horses  outside. 

"  October  19.  Arose  at  four  o'clock,  jumped  into  an 
omnibus  which  rattled  rudely  along  over  the  soft  earthy 
avenues,  and  into  occasional  holes,  especially  near  the 
street  crossings,  which  are  of  plank,  sometimes  rising  a 
foot  above  the  level  of  the  road.  The  vehicle  was  full, 
two  women  with  young  babies,  not  to  speak  of  children 
of  all  ages  taken  from  their  beds,  —  a  company  of  the 
unwashed.  We  had  time,  however,  for  everything  ex 
cept  breakfast !  There  was  no  express  train.  All  day 
long  we  rattled  on  in  cars  heated  by  iron  stoves,  without 
dinner  (they  stopped  somewhere  and  called  it  by  that 
name,  but  we  could  not  find  courage  to  go  in),  until 
half-past  six  o'clock,  when  we  reached  Iowa  city,  where 
c  Cheerfulness  '  was  again  given  to  a  fine  audience. 

"  October  20.  Went  to  prayers  at  the  University  of 
Iowa,  which  stands  in  a  park  opposite  the  hotel.  Saw 
six  hundred  boys  and  girls  together.  A  fine  sight. 
Later  in  the  day  we  walked  across  the  bridge  which 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  211 

spans  the  Iowa  River.  The  day  was  exquisite,  warm  as 
summer,  with  a  soft  haze.  We  sat  on  the  hillside  enjoy 
ing  it,  greatly  amused  in  watching  a  family  trying  to 
get  a  drove  of  pigs  to  market.  .  .  . 

"  BLOOMINGTON,  ILLINOIS.  Arriving  at  half-past  ten 
at  night,  we  found  a  reunion  of  the  Thirty-third  Illinois 
Regiment  —  with  other  soldiers,  officers,  and  their  wives, 
amounting  to  three  hundred  persons,  —  had  taken  posses 
sion  of  the  hotel.  It  was  a  most  interesting  sight,  how 
ever,  as  such  reunions  must  always  be.  When  they  dis 
covered  Mr.  Fields  was  in  the  hall,  they  would  not  rest 
until  he  had  responded  for  Massachusetts.  His  speech, 
though  short,  was  to  the  point,  and  the  applause  was 
simply  terrific.  There  was  no  liquor  on  the  tables,  and 
the  presence  of  women  gave  a  cheerful  aspect,  which 
kept  the  memorial  day  from  becoming  too  painful.  One 
man  who  had  lost  a  leg  tottered  as  he  rose  to  speak, 
whereat  another  one-legged  comrade  rose  up  and  sup 
ported  him. 

"  Were  driven  to  see  the  State  Normal  School  and 
Orphans'  Home.  Both  noble  establishments,  of  which 
Iowa  may  well  be  proud.  Our  guide  wore  a  toothpick  in 
his  mouth,  which  he  revolved  restlessly  with  his  tongue 
until  you  were  perplexed  as  to  the  possibility  of  that 
member's  evading  any  longer  the  sharp  point  inside.  He 
wished  to  show  us  the  museum,  4  the  first  in  America, 
sir ! '  also  parks,  kitchens,  laundries,  cupolas,  and  every 
imaginable  corner.  I  took  the  lecturer's  part  steadfastly, 
declaring  that,  with  a  lecture  before  him  that  evening, 
he  could  go  up  and  down  no  more  stairs.  Except  for 


212  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

this  excuse  I  know  not  what  would  have  become  of 
us."1  .  .  . 

"  Arrived  at .  The  place  was  full  of  kindliness, 

stove-heat,  and  enthusiasm  for  Mr.  Fields!  .  .  .  School- 
house,  —  all  house  and  very  little  school ;  teachers  salaries 
worse  than  very  little.  .  .  . 

"  Reached   Boston   October  31st.     November  3d  Mr. 

1  We  cut  the  inclosed  out  of  one  of  the  local  newspapers  :  — 

OATS    AN7D    BARLEY. 

Fifty  thousand  bushels  wanted  at  our  oat-meal  mill  in  Coral ville, 
for  which  we  will  pay  the  highest  market  price. 

TURNER  &  Co. 

THE    IOWA    CORN    CROP. 

Iowa  is  a  growing  State  —  scarce  thirty  years  old.  Among  other 
products  she  will  this  year  add  to  the  sum  total,  140,000,000  bushels 
of  corn.  Now  let  us  see  what  this  means  when  put  in  a  comprehen 
sive  form.  It  will  require  an  army  of  150,000  grangers  twenty  days 
to  pluck  and  crib  the  ears.  If  shipped  it  would  require  4,666  ships 
of  1,000  tons  each  to  carry  the  crop.  If  transported  upon  cars,  it 
will  require  470,000  cars,  and  would  make  a  train  2,750  miles  in 
length,  or  space  nearly  across  the  continent.  If  loaded  upon  wag 
ons,  with  carrying  capacity  of  thirty  bushels  each,  the  train  would 
form  a  line  27,000  miles  long,  or  2,000  miles  more  than  the  circuit 
of  the  globe.  If  emptied  down  upon  the  city  of  New  York,  it  would 
overwhelm  that  city  as  were  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii.  If  made 
into  whiskey,  it  would  float  the  United  States  navy,  or  make  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  drunk.  It  means 
t'at  horses,  fat  beef,  fat  hogs,  fat  poultry,  and  fat  pocket-books.  It 
means  that  it  will  open  bank  vaults  and  start  the  wheels  of  com 
merce.  Here  in  young  Iowa  are  mines  richer  than  California,  or 
Ophir,  or  Peru.  Fifty  thousand  square  miles  of  surface  diggin's 
and  all  "  play  dirt."  Then  why  not  come  to  Iowa?  —  Council  Bluffs 
Nonpareil. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  213 

Fields  left  again  for  Williams  College,  where  he  lectured 
three  successive  nights.  .  .  . 

"  BOSTON,  February.  Went  to  see  Sothern  in  David 
Garrick.  A  beautiful  piece  of  dramatic  art.  He  said 
afterward  at  supper,  in  speaking  of  the  vagaries  of  the 
mind,  that  he  was  always  tempted  when  he  came  to  the 
love-making  of  that  play  to  astonish  the  audience  by 
turning  a  somersault  or  two  before  them  on  the  stage. 
He  reminded  us  of  Dickens  again,  as  he  always  does. 
The  flashing  glance,  the  clear-cut  speech,  the  love  of 
effects,  the  keen,  almost  unobservable  study  of  his  com 
panions,  the  very  sound  of  his  laugh,  —  but  of  course  the 
measureless  tenderness,  the  unselfish  regard  of  which 
Dickens  was  capable,  and  which  made  him  the  master 
he  was,  can  only  be  known  once. 

"  Sothern  amused  us  immensely  telling  us  of  his 
hatreds,  4  musical  boxes  and  photographs.'  They  are 
his  red  rags.  He  illustrated  his  own  love  of  practical 
jokes  :  — 

"  He  had  invited  a  friend,  who  was  going  up  to  Lon 
don  to  some  entertainment,  to  sleep  in  his  chambers,  he 
himself  having  planned,  just  at  that  time,  to  be  away. 
He  changed  his  plans,  however,  for  some  good  reason, 
and  forgetting  all  about  his  invitation,  went  to  his  cham 
bers  to  sleep  on  that  particular  night  when  his  friend 
was  to  take  possession.  He  had  gone  quietly  in  at  a 
late  hour,  as  was  his  wont,  and  had  just  thrown  off  his 
coat  and  collar,  when  he  heard  a  snoring  in  the  inner 
room.  For  a  moment  he  was  startled,  but  soon  the 
ludicrousness  of  the  whole  thing  burst  upon  him.  Put 
ting  on  his  coat  once  more,  he  took  a  huge  music-box, 


214  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

which  some  misguided  friend  had  given  him,  wound  it 
up,  and  put  it  under  the  bed.  It  was  one  of  the  kind 
that  has  hammers  and  bells  and  every  sort  of  noisy  ac 
companiment.  Soon  the  thing  'went  off.'  His  dramatic 
representation  of  the  horror  of  the  inhabitant  of  the  bed, 
and  his  own  enjoyment  of  the  joke  from  behind  the  door, 
was  very  diverting.  .  .  . 

"Passed  the  evening  in  Hunt's  studio.  When  we 
arrived  he  said  they  were  just  '  fixin' '  for  the  company  ! 
He  was  moving  about  in  his  liveliest  and  most  restless 
way.  Every  now  and  then  he  would  hear  a  noise  from 
a  small  nephew  behind  a  screen.  4  He  's  arrangin'  the 
cake,'  said  Hunt.  Presently,  when  the  cake  was  ar 
ranged  !  it  was  brought  in  a  huge  tin  dish  and  placed  on 
the  top  of  a  high  stool  near  his  easel  during  the  evening. 
Then  he  began  to  show  his  work — the  portrait  of 
Agassiz,  one  of  a  lady,  and  many  drawings  in  pastel  and 
charcoal.  Also  a  fine  woman's  figure  holding  a  man 
dolin,  with  beautiful  green  drapery  and  yellow  hair. 
Some  one  said,  4  't  is  like  Paul  Veronese,'  '  but  softer,' 
said  Hunt,  '  't  is  softer  now,  is  n't  it,'  in  a  kind  of  boyish 
and  appealing  way.  We  had  delightful  music.  When 
it  was  time  to  go  Hunt  said,  hugging  himself  and  dan 
cing  about,  i  if  you  will  go,  I  'm  glad  I  have  n't  shown 
you  everything.  I  've  lots  more  1 1 ' 

"  WELLESLEY,  June,  1876.  The  sun  was  streaming 
across  the  lawn  and  the  great  trees  flinging  down  their 
shadows  as  we  approached  the  college,  a  very  fine  build 
ing  filled  with  three  hundred  young  women.  Six  girls 
rowed  us  across  the  lake.  It  was  a  lovely  sight,  espe 
cially  as  we  approached  the  garden  shore.  Returning, 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  215 

Mr.  Fields  gave  his  lecture  on  De  Quincey,  and  after 
ward  enjoyed  the  evening  with  his  host  and  hostess  in 
the  fine  library  of  the  college." 

This  is  the  first  record  of  a  series  of  visits  to 
Wellesley,  which  ended  only  with  Mr.  Fields's 
death.  His  associations  with  the  place  and  its 
founders  were  something  more  than  agreeable,  — 
they  were  those  of  friendship.  These  ties  strength 
ened  with  the  years,  and  as  he  always  loved  his 
friends  in  a  way  to  help  them,  so  his  interest  in 
Wellesley  was  deeply  appreciated  by  its  pro 
jectors. 

"  October  27,  1876.  Lectured  in  Springfield  en  route 
to  Buffalo  and  Niagara.  The  scene  at  the  Falls  was 
never  more  impressive.  Walked  about  the  place  the 
livelong  day  except  an  hour  for  dinner. 

"  OBEELIN.  Lecture  most  successful.  The  young 
men  hung  about  his  steps  till  the  last  moment.  Rose  at 
half-past  five,  and  left  before  the  sun  appeared.  The  air 
was  delicious,  the  horses  strong,  and  we  watched  the  per 
fect  beauty  of  the  dawn  as  we  drove  over  the  solitary 
road,  heavy  with  black  soft  soil.  How  endless  and  for 
lorn  some  of  these  roads  looked,  branching  out,  no  one 
knows  whither,  and  reaching  over  utter  solitudes.  We 
were  driven  by  a  young  student,  who  replied  civilly  to 
our  questions  about  growing  things,  birds,  even  milk-cans, 
and  all  kinds  of  matters,  such  as  beset  the  wandering 
eyes  of  the  traveler.  The  milk-cans  were  indeed  pro 
digious  in  that  district.  They  were  explained  when  we 


216  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

understood  that  we  had  entered  the  town  of  Wellington, 
one  of  the  largest  cheese  depots  in  the  world.  Some 
quick  eye,  seeing  the  name  on  our  trunk  as  we  drove 
through  the  town,  a  deputation  waited  on  Mr.  Fields  at 
the  station  to  pray  him  to  stay  over  one  day  and  lecture. 

"  It  was  very  warm  as  we  rode  on  across  the  vast  State 
of  Ohio,  with  its  gathered  corn,  its  springing  winter 
wheat,  its  vast  cultivated  plains  and  rather  slow  rivers. 
Mr.  Fields  was  deeply  interested  in  the  sight,  especially 
as  we  drew  near  to  Dayton,  where  is  the  Soldiers'  Home, 
dear  to  us  because  of  the  fine  library  that  belonged  to 
one  of  our  young  Massachusetts  soldiers  who  fell  at  Ball's 
Bluff.  It  was  presented  to  this  Home  by  his  mother. 

"  CINCINNATI,  November  3.     Dark  November  weather. 

'-'•November  4.  Lecture  last  night  on  Wordsworth 
drew  a  crowded  house.  Everybody  is  more  than  kind. 
This  morning  a  fog  deep  as  that  of  London  covers  every 
thing. 

"Lectures  continued  daily — all  very  successful. 

"  CHICAGO,  November  9,  1876.  Intensely  anxious  as 
to  the  result  of  the  election.  Eager  crowds  at  every 
station  on  the  way  to  snatch  the  newspapers. 

"  The  next  evening  Mr.  Fields  lectured  at  a  place  called 
Princeton,  traveling  all  night  after  speaking,  and  return 
ing  to  Chicago  at  seven  o'clock,  A.  M.  .  .  .  Left  Chicago 
for  a  week  of  lectures  throughout  Wisconsin.  .  .  .  Re 
turning  Friday,  lectured  Friday  evening  at  Beloit,  and 
again  traveling  all  night,  reached  Chicago  at  day-break. 
He  is  not  well ;  after  resting  we  walked  down  town,  and 
dined  alone  together,  which  seemed  to  do  him  good. 

"  Sunday.     McCorruick's  vast  hall  crowded  to  hear 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  217 

the    '  Plea   for   Cheerfulness.'      Everybody  enthusiastic 
and  aglow. 

"  BUFFALO.  Walking  out  in  the  afternoon  to  see  the 
lecture-room  for  the  evening,  Mr.  Fields  stumbled  over 
the  steps  in  a  dark  entry,  and  sprained  his  ankle.  With 
the  aid  of  cold  wet  compresses  and  a  physician's  care, 
he  gave  his  lecture,  sitting,  but  otherwise  as  if  nothing 
were  the  matter.  Thanksgiving  day  dined  at  East  Buf 
falo  railway  station.  Much  amused  by  a  party,  appar 
ently  the  Fezziwig  family,  also  dining.  It  was  a  wonder 
fully  clean  little  place  with  the  best  of  home-cooked 
dinners.  We  were  waited  upon  by  a  young  woman  in 
the  cleanest  of  clean  gowns.  She  said,  in  answer  to  our 
inquiries  about  the  jolly  party,  '  Oh,  it 's  the  family,  and 
they  ain't  all  here  neither  ! '  So  '  the  family  '  was  mak 
ing  merry  in  its  own  restaurant !  —  and  who  should  have 
a  better  right. 

"  NEW  YORK,  December,  1876.  Mr.  Fields  lectures  in 
New  York,  Swarthmore,  and  West  Chester,  alternately, 
every  week." 

With  this  month  the  diary  ends.  It  never  was 
resumed.  Engagements  and  occupations  absorbed 
the  time  and  strength  of  both,  and  personal  inter 
ests  gave  way  to  other  claims.  I  cannot,  however, 
allow  Mr.  Fields's  lectures,  which  will  never  be 
printed,  to  pass  into  oblivion,  without  striving  to 
rescue  some  memory  of  their  peculiar  qualities  and 
influence.  For  this  purpose,  in  order  that  no  mis 
take  may  be  made  by  substituting  private  opinion 


218  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

for  genuine  public  recognition,  I  turn  to  the  trib 
utes  paid  him  through  the  newspapers  and  peri 
odicals.  In  one  of  the  Philadelphia  newspapers  I 
find:- 

"  We  do  not  attempt  to  criticise  Mr.  Fields.  No  one 
can,  without  loving  him,  listen  to  his  soft,  gentle  voice, 
in  the  quiet,  conversational  tone  with  which  he  puts  his 
audiences  in  warm  personal  relations  with  him." 

A  writer  in  Worcester,  Mass.,  where  he  always 
found  a  delightful  audience,  says :  - 

"The  lecturer  spoke  of  the  good  done  the  world  by 
pleasant  people,  meaning  by  pleasant  people  those  who 
are  to  the  manor  born,  seeing  everything  and  everybody 
at  the  best  and  under  a  certain  illumination,  not  those 
who  are  pleasant  now  and  then  or  at  times  when  they 
are  pleased.  Somewhere  in  a  new  England  cemetery,  on 
a  gravestone,  said  the  speaker,  is  to  be  found,  with  the 
name  and  age,  the  line,  4  She  was  so  pleasant.'  '  Think,' 
said  he,  'what  a  delightful  character  she  must  have  been 
to  have  an  epitaph  like  that.  It  makes  one  think  that  a 
choir  of  nightingales  is  perched  upon  her  grave  and  sing 
ing  melodious  chants  to  her  memory.' ' 

Also,  from  Worcester,  came  the  following  pri 
vate  note,  one  among  many  from  other  quarters  of 
the  same  nature ;  the  source  of  which  remains  un 
discovered  :  — 

"WORCESTER,  MASS.,  January  11,  1879. 

"MR.  JAMES  T.  FIELDS:  —  I  must  ever  count  among 
my  chief  blessings  the  privilege  of  hearing  the  course  of 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  219 

lectures  upon  English  literature  YOU  are  now  giving  in 
our  city.  It  cannot  be  a  matter  of  indifference  to  you 
that  you  have  greatly  blessed  and  helped  one  in  sore 
need. 

"  I  thank  yon  from  my  heart  for  showing  me  that  a 
great  noble  learned  man  can  vet  be  modest  and  simple, 
as  our  Saviours  type  of  his  own  pure  kingdom,  a  little 
child.  Whereas  I  was  once,  to  a  great  extent,  blind,  I 
believe  I  have  now  both  eyes  open,  and  please  God  I  will 
never  shut  them  again. 

"  May  you  have  many,  many  happy  useful  years, 

"A  GRATEFUL  HEARER." 

Again  in  a  paper  from  Pawtucket,  Massachu 
setts,  I  find :  — 

"  The  lecture,  from  beginning  to  end,  was  an  absorb 
ing  literary  treat.  He  spoke  of  the  importance  of  novels 
and  the  influence  they  exerted  upon  the  mind  and  so 
ciety,  commended  the  good  and  warmly  denounced  the 
bad ;  in  the  latter  case  amply  illustrating  the  debasing 
effect  the  pernicious  trash,  from  the  dime  novel  to  the  so- 
called  periodicals  for  boys  and  girls,  which  take  up  the 
larger  portion  of  our  newsdealers'  counters,  has  had  and 
is  liable  to  have  upon  the  readers  of  the  abominable 
stuff  ;  and  his  words  upon  this  portion  of  his  subject 
ought  to  be  printed  in  circular  form  and  spread  broadcast 
over  the  entire  country." 

And  from  Exeter,  New  Hampshire  :  — 

'•Mr.  Fields  has  done  more  than  any  other  American 
to  familiarize  us  with  the  men  of  letters  of  the  old  world 


220  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

and  their  works  ;  and  the  nation  owes  him  a  debt  of 
gratitude  which  will  become  greater  as  the  ranks  of  our 
scholars  increase.  His  opportunities  have  been  pecul 
iarly  advantageous,  his  memory  is  prodigious,  and  he 
has  gathered  in  a  store  of  fact  and  narrative  that  renders 
him  the  most  charming  lecturer  of  the  day.  .  .  .  He  is 
able  to  surround  his  subjects  with  an  interest,  a  fresh 
ness,  and  a  wealth  of  reminiscence  of  which  no  other 
lecturer  is  capable." 

From  the  New  York  "  Tribune  "  :  — 

"  The  effect  of  such  a  course  of  lectures  on  the  great 
public  cannot  easily  be  estimated.  At  every  discourse 
there  must  be  at  least  a  small  number  to  whose  minds  a 
new  world  is  suddenly  opened.  The  mind  which  has 
been  favored  with  the  advantages  of  education  in  its 
more  practical  sense,  may  find  a  never-ending  interest 
and  pleasure  in  the  labors  of  science,  the  studies  of  po 
litical  economy,  the  pages  of  history,  the  puzzling  prob 
lems  of  higher  mathematics,  or  the  wondrous  progress  of 
mechanical  invention  ;  yet  unless  the  lights  of  modern 
English  literature  have  beamed  upon  their  libraries  they 
must  pass  through  earth-life  in  a  shadow." 

Finally  a  writer  in  the  "  New  York  Post/'  hav 
ing  heard  one  of  his  lectures  in  Boston,  re 
marks  :  — 

44  Mr.  Fields  was  clearly  of  the  mind  that  Bostonians 
had  the  opportunities  for  too  much  education,  and  it  was 
a  timely  suggestion,  that  if  the  public  libraries  could  not 
be  weeded  of  some  of  their  sensational  trash,  well  quali- 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  221 

fied  indicators  should  be  appointed  who  should  gauge  the 
requirements  of  applicants,  and  tell  them  what  books 
they  ought  to  read." 

This  paragraph  revives  the  memory  of  an  idea 
which  was  a  growth  from  his  experience,  and 
which  he  always  believed  to  be  perfectly  feasible. 
Public  libraries,  he  considered,  could  effect  but  a 
small  part  of  the  good  for  which  they  were  in 
tended  until  persons  of  judgment  and  sympathy 
could  be  found  and  appointed  as  indicators  to 
assist  readers  in  the  selection  of  proper  books. 

The  kind  of  affectionate  personal  interest  which 
grew  up  in  the  minds  of  his  hearers  toward  him 
was  exceptionally  noticeable.  During  the  lecture 
season  his  house  was  seldom  without  flowers,  offer 
ings  from  his  grateful  listeners.  He  did  not  often 
return  empty  handed  from  his  evening  reading. 
This  was  but  one  expression  of  the  influence  he 
exerted. 

In  vain,  during  these  pages,  have  I  hoped  to 
recall  in  words  something  of  the  vitalizing,  en 
couraging,  sympathizing,  and  above  all  simple  and 
human  presence  which  Mr.  Fields  was  to  all  who 
knew  him.  I  fear  it  may  not  be  !  But  there  is, 
at  least,  one  striking  characteristic  of  him  not  yet 
expressed,  —  he  could  bring  the  most  adverse  na 
tures  together,  and,  if  war  were  not  previously  de 
clared  between  them,  they  would  separate  liking 


222  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

each  other  better  than  they  had  ever  believed  pos 
sible.  He  was  born  to  harmonize,  and  the  amount 
of  such  business  he  was  called  upon  to  do  was  very 
unusual. 

Meanwhile  he  was  continuously  occupied  at  his 
desk,  as  the  subjoined  list  of  twenty-seven  lec 
tures,  which  he  had  ready  at  this  period,  will 
show.1 

He  found  it  difficult  to  shake  off  his  old  occu 
pation  altogether.  "  Once  a  publisher  always  a 
publisher,"  he  would  say.  Sometimes,  however, 
the  applications  were  too  much  even  for  his  pa 
tience,  and  I  find  the  following  paragraph,  cut 
from  one  of  the  daily  papers  :  — 

"  Mr.  J.  T.  Fields  is  compelled  again  to  request  pub 
licly  that  no  more  manuscripts  may  be  sent  to  him  for 
examination,  as  he  has  not  been  connected  with  any 
magazine  or  publishing-house  for  several  years,  and  can 
not  undertake  to  find  publishers  for  either  prose  or  po- 

1  Importance  of  the  Study  and  Reading  of  English  Literature. 
Lilerary  and  Artistic  Life  in  London,  Thirty  Years  ago.  Fiction, 
Old  and  New,  and  its  Eminent  Authors.  A  Plea  for  Cheerfulness. 
Masters  of  the  Situation.  John  Milton  (two  lectures).  Alexander 
Pope.  Oliver  Goldsmith.  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.  Robert  Burns. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning.  Walter  Scott.  Lord  Byron.  William 
Cowper.  William  Wordsworth.  Charles  Lamb.  Alfred  Tennyson. 
Thomas  Campbell.  Sydney  Smith.  "Christopher  North"  (John 
Wilson).  Thomas  Hood.  Keats  and  Shelley.  Thomas  De  Quincey 
(the  "  English  Opium  Eater  ").  William  Cullen  Bryant.  Nathanie. 
Hawthorne.  Henry  W.  Longfellow.  Rufus  Choate. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  223 

etry.  He  regrets  that  he  has  no  leisure  to  read  or  give 
opinions  on  imprinted  matter,  as  '  he  would  gladly  do  if 
differently  situated,'  and  respectfully  begs  to  refer  all 
applicants  to  Messrs.  J.  R.  Osgood  and  Company,  or  to 
Mr.  Ho  wells,  the  editor  of  *  The  Atlantic  Monthly.' 
During  the  last  two  months  forty  bulky  manuscripts 
have  been  sent  to  Mr.  Fields,  from  various  parts  of  the 
country,  with  no  provision  inclosed  for  return  postage  or 
express  charges." 

In  April,  1875,  Mr.  Fields  visited  Jesse  Pomeroy 
in  his  cell.  It  was  altogether  out  of  his  usual  plan 
to  do  anything  of  the  kind,  believing  it  to  be  a 
mistake  to  gaze  upon  misery  or  wrong  which  you 
can  do  nothing  to  alleviate.  In  this  case,  how 
ever,  it  will  be  seen  he  had  a  definite  end  in  view. 
He  had  long  held  the  opinion,  that  if  the  influence 
of  good  literature  was  beneficent,  tbe  opposite  was 
also  true,  —  the  effect  of  bad  literature  must  be 
deteriorating.  In  an  unpublished  paper  upon  this 
subject  he  says  :  — 

"  I  have  for  a  long  time  been  of  the  opinion  that  the 
increase  of  crime  is  largely  owing  to  the  reading  of  im 
moral  and  exciting  cheap  books.  .  .  .  Traveling  about 
the  country  I  see  young  people  everywhere  absorbed  in 
reading,  to  say  the  least,  a  doubtful  class  of  literature. 
On  the  railroads  I  see  school-boys  secluding  themselves 
from  observation  busily  occupied  in  reading  4  Dime  Nov 
els,'  as  they  are  called.  If  I  go  into  the  engine  or  bag 
gage  apartment,  I  always  find  one  or  two  workmen  off 


224  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

duty,  earnestly  devouring  the  '  Police  Gazette,'  or  other 
illustrated  journals  devoted  to  crime.  On  steamboats, 
the  corners  of  settees,  and  boxes  on  the  freight  deck,  are 
frequently  occupied  with  readers  all  intent  on  the  gar 
bage  thrown  out  to  them  by  infamous  scribblers  who 
pander  to  all  the  worst  passions  of  human  or  inhuman 
nature.  ...  I  found  the  advertisements  of  low  theatres 
in  all  our  cities  holding  out  cheap  inducements  to  crowd 
the  pit  and  gallery  when  Helen  Western  played  Jack 
Sheppard,  and  made  robbery  heroic  to  that  extent,  that 
the  high  sheriff  of  Suffolk  told  me,  when  this  woman 
played  that  character  at  the  Howard,  young  thieves  mul 
tiplied  perceptibly  in  Boston  during  her  engagement. 
The  popular  play  that  crowds  the  Howard  Athenaeum 
this  very  week  every  night  with  boys  from  ten  to  nine 
teen,  is  called,  '  Escaped  from  Sing-Sing,'  and  is  based, 
I  am  told,  on  the  easy  immunity  from  the  punishment  of 
crime.  .  .  .  Having  been  so  long  interested  in  hunting 
out,  if  possible,  proofs  that  demoralizing  cheap  literature 
was  working  bad  results,  I  resolved  to  visit  the  Pomeroy 
boy  in  his  cell,  and  question  him  as  to  the  books  he  had 
been  reading  from  childhood.  ...  I  began  my  conver 
sation  by  frankly  telling  him  why  I  wished  for  an  inter 
view. 

"  '  I  see,  sir,  that  you  come  from  no  morbid  curiosity,' 
was  his  prompt  reply.  I  then  asked  him  if  he  was  fond 
of  reading.  He  said,  '  Very,  I  read  everything  I  can 
get.'  '  When  did  you  first  begin  to  be,  fond  of  read 
ing?'  I  asked  him.  4 1  guess  about  nine  years  of  age.' 
'  What  kind  of  books  did  you  first  begin  to  read  ? 
4  Oh,  blood  and  thunder  stories  !  ' 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  225 

" '  Were  the  books  small  ones  ? ' 

"  *  Yes,  most  Beadle's  dime  novels.' 

"  '  How  many  of  Beadle's  dime  novels  do  you  think  you 
read  from  nine  years  old  upward  ?  ' 

" 4  Well,  I  can't  remember  exactly,  but  I  should  think 
sixty.' 

"  '  Do  you  remember  the  titles  of  most  of  them  ?  ' 

"  '  No,  sir,  but  "  Buffalo  Bill  "  was  one  of  the  best.' 

"  '  What  were  the  books  about  ?  ' 

" '  Killing  and  scalping  injuns  and  so  forth,  and  running 
away  with  women ;  a  good  many  of  the  scenes  were  out 
on  the  plains." 

"  '  Were  there  any  pictures  in  the  books  ?  ' 

"  '  Yes,  sir,  plenty  of  them,  blood  and  thunder  pictures, 
tomahawking,  and  scalping.' 

"  *  Did  your  parents  know  you  were  reading  those 
books  all  through  those  years  ?  ' 

"  '  No,  I  kept  it  away  from  them.' 

"  '  Do  you  think  you  read  more  of  those  books  than 
any  of  the  boys  who  lived  near  you  ?  ' 

" '  Yes,  sir,  a  great  many  more,  I  had  a  kind  of  passion 
for  'em.' 

"  '  Do  you  think  these  books  were  an  injury  to  you, 
and  excited  you  to  commit  the  acts  you  have  done  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  sir,  I  have  thought  it  all  over,  and  it  seems  to 
me  now  they  did.  I  can't  say  certainly,  of  course,  and 
perhaps  if  I  should  think  it  over  again,  I  should  say  it 
was  something  else.' 

"4  What  else?' 

"  4  Well,  sir,  I  really  can't  say.' 

15 


226  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

" 1  Would  you  earnestly  advise  the  other  boys  not  to 
read  these  books  you  have  read  ? ' 
"  '  Indeed,  sir,  I  should.'  " 

This  visit  left  a  deep  and  painful  impression. 
Pomeroy  confessed  a  sense  of  irresponsibility,  not 
knowing  what  "  I  might  do  half  an  hour  from  now, 
though  I  feel  so  quiet,  sitting  and  talking  with 
you,"  which  increased  the  mystery  and  the  diffi 
culty  of  the  case ;  but  I  think  it  will  be  felt  that 
Mr.  Fields's  visit  was  not  without  fruit,  in  the 
discovery  that  he  had  a  mania  for  literary  poison 
above  any  of  his  fellows,  had  secretly  indulged 
his  taste,  and  had  lived  to  hope  that  other  boys 
might  be  saved  from  a  like  indulgence. 

In  the  spring  of  1874,  Mr.  Fields  lectured  again 
at  Dartmouth  College.  Afterwards  he  wrote  from 
his  favorite  Plymouth  :  — 

.  .  .  "  Had  a  crammed  church-full  last  evening  at  the 
Hanoverian   Court ;   shook  hands  with  untold   students 

before  retiring.     's  all  charming  and  most  attentive. 

Rose  at  five  this  A.  M.  Took  cars  to  Wells  River.  Glo 
rious  ride  through  forty  miles  of  apple  blossoms,  and  a 
background  of  mountains.  .  .  .  Drove  to  Willeys.  Porch, 
excellent  and  popular.  [One  we  had  ourselves  sug 
gested  and,  in  an  amateur  fashion,  designed.]  An  ex 
quisite  vista  opened  in  front  of  the  house  according  to 
your  direction.  They  can't  make  anything  creep  up  the 
porch.  Will  you  send  some  Virginia  creeper." 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  227 

In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year  he  gave  courses 
of  lectures  during  the  month  of  November  in 
Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  and  Washington. 

He  was  cordially  greeted  everywhere,  but  such 
incessant  labor  was  altogether  incompatible  with 
social  enjoyments,  and  in  one  of  his  letters  he 
writes  :  — 

44  Painfully  harassed  with  invitations  of 
pie  to  dine,  sup,  sleep,  lunch,  drive, 
in  their  houses."  (l)  M  V  E.RS  IT  Y! 

While  in  Philadelphia  he  says 

44  Went  yesterday  to  the  Great  Normal 
to  4  say  something,'  contrary  to  my  wishes.  They  seemed 
to  expect  it,  so  I  got  up,  and  they  were  happy  although 
I  was  not.  My  audience  last  night  at  the  Academy 
(Lamb),  was  simply  delightful.  Never  saw  such  atten 
tive  and  so  many  wet  faces  over  poor  Charles  and  Mary 
at  the  closing  passages.  ...  I  am  all  right,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  great  heat  and  plenty  of  mosquitoes.  They 
are  lovely  people  here  in  this  house,  from  the  baby  to  the 
father  and  mother.  .  .  . 

44  What  a  season  it  is !  Here  the  warmth  is  oppres 
sive.  .  .  .  You  make  me  hear  the  sparrows  chirping  out 
side  our  windows.  ...  I  never  read  such  notices  of  the 
lectures  as  appear  in  these  newspapers.  They  could  say 
no  more  if  Dickens  or  Thackeray  were  lecturing.  It  is 
really  too  preposterous  an  outbreak  of  praise  even  for  a 
man  to  send  his  wife !  No,  I  won't. 

44 1  cannot  bear  to  think  of  you  as  alone.     Pray  send 


228  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

for and  go  to  all  the  concerts  you  can,  and  to  Toole 

also.  God  bless  you,  and  bring  us  safe  together  in  a  few 
weeks.  .  .  .  Think  of  my  journeys  to  and  fro !  On  the 
9th  in  Westchester ;  next  day  over  the  road  to  Baltimore ; 
next  day  back  to  Philadelphia ;  to-day  at  twelve  Balti 
more  again  ;  next  day  to  Washington ;  next  day  back  to 
Philadelphia;  the  day  after  to  Washington  again;  then 
back  to  Philadelphia;  next  day  to  Germantown;  next 
day  on  the  road  back  to  Washington  ;  next  day  back  to 
Philadelphia ;  then  back  to  Washington,  and  thank  God ! 
that  is  all ! 

"  PHILADELPHIA,  Monday.  I  rose  very  early  yester 
day  (Sunday),  and  went  from  eight  to  ten  to  hear  Moody 
and  Sankey,  who  spoke  and  sang  to  10,000  people.  Very 
impressive  from  its  true  earnestness.  .  .  . 

"  This  lecturing  is  fatiguing  work,  and  my  throat  gets 
so  full  of  dust  on  the  railroads  that  I  feel  sometimes 
at  my  journey's  end  like  a  scraped  carrot.  But  it  will 
be  over  soon  now,  thank  God,  and  I  shall  set  my  face 
sternly  against  lecture  halls  for  awhile.  They  want  me 
at  Baltimore  to  begin  at  once  at  the  Mercantile  Library 
Rooms,  four  lectures  as  a  course,  but  I  can't  and  I  won't. 
.  .  .  We  are  to  have  your  health  proposed  at  dinner  in 
a  royal  bumper.  [It  was  our  wedding  day.]  ...  I 
could  not  resist  making  an  offer  in  Baltimore  for  that 
Stuart  (original)  head.  ...  If  it  arrives  pray  tell  me 
if  it  is  not  beautiful  ?  .  .  .  My  legs  ache  so  this  morn 
ing  that  I  could  not  run  away  even  from 's  moth 
er!" 

"  The  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  mistook  me,  as  usual,  for 
somebody  else,  and  gave  me  a  beautiful  room  on  the  first 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  229 

floor,  although  my  fellow  travelers  were  sent  up  four 
flights  !  How  will  all  this  end,  when  they  find  out 
that  I  Jim  not  Cyrus,  or  Dudley,  or  John !  .  .  .  I  found 

at  the  hotel  and  lonely  last  night,  so  I  took  him  to 

see  Raymond  in  Mark  Twain's  new  play,  which  is  simply 
delicious.  We  bought  fifty  cent  tickets  for  the  gallery, 
but  Raymond  sent  up  and  had  us  brought  down  into  the 
stage-box.  His  success  is  tremendous  in  this  piece.  The 
house  was  crowded,  and  he  has  already  played  the  piece 
fifty  nights.  It  is  to  run  one  hundred  more,  probably. 
I  don't  know  when  I  have  laughed  more  than  over  Ray 
mond's  fun  in  the  play.  I  fairly  disturbed  the  audience 
twice.  ...  I  don't  expect  much  of  an  audience  myself 
to-night.  The  election  has  dissipated  all  interest  in  any 
thing  else,  I  apprehend.  The  Massachusetts  news  of 
yesterday  is  black  !  black  ! 

u  Thursday  morning.  Good  audience.  All  pleased ; 
some  enthusiastic.  To-day  I  must  rest,  as  I  feel  somewhat 
leg-weary.  I  will  not  go  out  to  dine  six  times  a  day,  or 
to  supper  after  lecture.  ...  It  is  just  five  o'clock  A.  M., 
and  -although  I  did  not  go  to  bed  until  one  this  morning, 
four  hours  ago,  I  am  up  and  at  work.  The  truth  is,  I 
could  not  sleep.  My  audience  at  the  Academy  last  night 
was  a  most  exciting  one,  and  slumber  was  banished  from 
my  eyelids.  My  subject  was  'Literary  and  Artistic  Life 
in  London,'  and  I  had  touched  it  up  in  the  afternoon  with 
new  things,  and  I  suppose  it  was  more  than  usually  ex 
citing.  Harry  Brown  said  afterwards  it  was  the  great 
hit  of  the  course,  and  my  hearers  behaved  as  if  it  were. 
...  I  have  answered  and  declined  seven  invitations  for 
dinner  on  Friday  of  this  week." 


230  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Henry  Armitt  Brown,  whose  opinion  is  quoted 
in  the  previous  letter,  died  in  the  flower  of  man 
hood.  Apart  from  all  private  grief,  his  loss  to  the 
city  of  Philadelphia  has  left  a  gap  which  will  long 
remain  unfilled.  He  possessed  distinguished  abil 
ity  as  well  as  attractiveness,  and  his  local  reputa 
tion  as  an  orator  was  fast  breaking  local  bounds, 
when  he  WP.S  snatched  away  from  this  world's  am 
bition  and  labors.  I  find  several  affectionate  let 
ters  of  his  to  Mr.  Fields,  from  which  a  few  extracts 
may  be  in  place  here,  showing  readiness  and  grace 
with  the  pen,  as  well  as  glimpses  of  those  higher 
qualities  which  justly  distinguished  him  :  — 

"113  SOUTH  TWENTY-FIRST,  PHILADELPHIA,  June  16,  1875. 
"JAMES  T.  FIELDS,  ESQ., 

"  My  dear  Friend :  Had  you  been  able  to  have  seen 
my  delight  when  I  opened  the  package  from  Boston, 
yesterday  afternoon,  you  would  have  felt,  I  am  sure,  that 
the  reward  of  a  good  action  is  peace.  Selah  !  I  was 
sitting  in  my  den,  —  a  bundle  of  most  wretched  law 
papers  lying  in  front  of  me,  threatening  the  utter  de 
struction  of  my  happiness  for  the  remainder  of  the  day, 
—  and  feeling,  as  I  am  apt  to  do  under  such  circum 
stances,  miserably  dull.  There  is,  to  one  of  my  tempera 
ment,  110  doll  quite  so  full  of  sawdust  of  the  driest  kind 
as  the  purely  legal  doll.  To  me,  then,  sitting  alone  and 
waiting  for  courage  enough  to  attack  my  juiceless  bundle, 
entered  a  maid-servant,  armed  with  a  suspicious  looking 
package.  'By  express,'  quoth  she,  and  laid  it  by  my 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  231 

side  and  vanished.  The  purple  ink  and  the  peculiar 
twist  of  certain  letters  struck  me  at  once :  I  heaved  a 
sigh  —  up  from  the  deepest  depths  —  and  murmured  to 
myself  but  half  aloud,  '  Fields !  '  Breaking  the  string, 
and  opening  the  wrapper,  I  soon  extricated  the  venerable 
book,  and  beheld  with  reverential  delight  the  book-plate 
of  the  great  D.  W.  I  guessed  the  rest,  and  needed  not 
the  words  you  had  written  on  the  fly-leaf  to  understand 
the  whole.  I  am  a  thousand  times  your  debtor.  Not  for 
its  own  sake  merely — nor  for  old  Walker's,  venerable 
soul,  —  nor  yet  for  mighty  Daniel's,  now  alas  so  long 
ago  gone  to  judgment,  —  shall  that  sturdy  old  volume  be 
dear  to  me,  but  for  yours,  O  my  friend,  and  the  associa 
tions  which  shall  make  it  ever  '  a  sweet  remembrancer ' 
of  you.  Thine  ever, 

"  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN." 

"PHILADELPHIA,  May  4,  1876. 

"MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  As  pants  the  hart  for  streams 
and  things,  I  wait  thy  coming.  The  humble  cot  is 
ready,  the  tea-urn  sings  beside  the  crackling  log,  and  the 
latch-string  hangs  far  out,  inviting  your  longed-for  touch. 
The  town  is  full,  the  streets  crammed  with  gaping 
strangers,  the  cars  go  to  and  fro  heavily  laden,  there  is 
a  buzz  and  bustle  everywhere,  and,  yonder  in  the  Park, 
the  great  Leviathan  stands  up  overwhelmingly  big  and 
awful.  The  huge  portals  are  still  shut,  but  the  din  of 
hammers  comes  resounding  from  within,  and  the  mur 
mur  of  many  voices  in  as  many  tongues.  Philadelphia 
is  dressing  for  the  fete>  and  there  is  a  sense  of  expecta- 


232  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

tion  in  the  very  air  we  breathe.     Come  and  stand  with 
us  on  the  threshold. 

"  Always  sincerely, 

"  HENHY  ARMITT  BROWN." 

"  Certain  fishers  of  men  are  in  an  ecstasy  of  happi 
ness.  None  of  your  occasional  catches  for  them  to-day  ! 
Imagine  some  of  our  'leading  citizens,'  with  drag  nets 
out,  and  the  waters  fairly  swarming  with  distinguished 
strangers  !  Prophets  and  kings  may  have  yearned  to 
see  such  things,  but  died  ignobly  without  the  chance." 

"June  5,  1876. 

"MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  Praise  from  Sir  Hubert,  you 
know,  and  recommendations  from  you,  are  valuable  in 
deed.  I  don't  know  exactly  how  to  get  up  the  subject 
you  suggest.  I  might  prepare  a  lecture  on  the  social 
business  of  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  ditto  on  the  polit 
ical.  Could  the  subject  be  expanded  into  three  or  four, 
think  you  ?  and,  if  so,  can  you  give  me  any  suggestion  ? 
A  hint  always  helps  me  amazingly,  and  I  should  rejoice 
to  have  one  or  many  from  you  apropos  of  these  discourses. 
Thanks  for  the  thoughts  of  me,  again." 

A  few  days  later  Mr.  Fields  writes  again  from 
Philadelphia  :  — 

"  On  arriving  here  yesterday,  P.  M.,  dead  beat  with 
fatigue  from  Washington,  I  found  your  letters.  .  .  .  My 
Washington  audience  is  a  delight.  I  go  again  on  Fri 
day.  .  .  .  To-day  I  find  myself  with  a  tormenting  cold. 
.  .  .  This  cursed  traveling,  a  hundred  miles  a  day  on  an 
average,  is  not  the  best  thing  for  throat  and  lungs."  .  .  . 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  233 

It  was  the  old  story  ;  traveling  and  speaking 
proving  too  much  for  human  endurance.  The 
excitement  of  audiences,  the  pleasure  of  respond 
ing  to  the  social  kindnesses  extended  on  every 
hand,  the  ceaseless  efforts  of  mind  and  body,  can 
not  be  borne  without  serious  results. 

From  Baltimore,  at  the  same  period,  he  wrote :  — 

"  Had  a  fine  audience  here  last  night,  and  the  old 
Plea  8  made  them  roar.'  It  never  took  better  anywhere. 
At  West  Chester  the  night  before  I  gave  them  '  Long 
fellow,'  and  the  success  beggars  my  descriptive  powers. 
One  man  made  me  go  home  with  him  to  have  a  glass  of 
champagne,  for  he  said  he  was  an  old  fellow,  and  might 
never  hear  me  again.  Mr.  H.,  at  whose  house  I  slept, 
had  a  large  dinner  party  the  P.  M.  I  arrived,  and  we  had 
a  jolly  time  with  the  clergymen  and  the  doctors  and  law 
yers, —  a  bad  preparation  for  the  lecture  at  eight  o'clock  ; 
but  the  party  was  all  made  up  for  me  days  ago  without 
my  knowledge.  Your  dear  letter  of  Friday  met  me  on 
the  way,  through  Philadelphia  to  Baltimore  yesterday, 
by  the  kindness  of  H.  F.,  who  is  incontestably  the  finest 
host  I  ever  knew.  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  on  my 
return.  Here  comes  the  omnibus." 

Again  from  Baltimore  :  — 

"  Only  a  word  to  say,  '  All  right,'  and  that  Baltimore 
is  the  prince  of  cities  to  lecture  ii.  .  .  .  It  seems  that 
the  Catholic  people  here  are  my  staunch  friends.  To 
night  I  am  tired,  and  have  got  my  books  and  a  soft  coal 
fire,  and  here  I  shall  sit  until  twelve  or  one  o'clock  to 


234  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

get  the  kind  faces  out  of  my  brain.  .  .  .  The  heat  in 
the  cars  to-day  roasted  me,  and  when  a  woman  opened 
a  window  on  my  back  I  resolved  to  give  up  lecturing." 

"WASHINGTON,  SATURDAY,  November  21,  1874. 
"  Great  and  glorious  time  last  night  at  Lincoln  Hall. 
I  never  saw  an  audience  more  bent  on  hearing.  They 
waited  for  me  as  I  came  out  and  seized  my  hand,  and 
wrung  it  as  if  I  had  saved  a  nation.  I  was  glad  to  get 
into  the  carriage." 

In  January,  1874,  he  wrote  from  New  York  :  — 

"  Last  night  I  went  to  the  Intercollegiate  dinner,  as 
most  earnestly  requested  by  the  chancellor  and  faculty 
of  the  New  York  University.  I  never  saw  a  more  inter 
esting  occasion.  The  young  prize  student  sat  on  the 
right  of  the  chancellor,  and  I  was  placed  on  the  left.  .  .  . 

"  During  the  chancellor's  toast,  proposing  the  health 
of  the  prize  student,  in  most  fitting  words,  it  was  de 
lightful  to  read  the  feeling  and  modesty  in  the  young 
man's  face.  When  he  rose  to  reply,  it  was  done  so  ad 
mirably  I  declare  I  never  was  more  touched.  What  he 
said  was  perfect ;  the  point  being,  that  if  he  had  suc 
ceeded  it  was  all  owing  to  his  instructors  who  had  pre 
sided  over  the  college  during  his  four  years'  study.  It 
was  most  lovely  to  see  how  real  and  unaffected  the  little 
fellow  was.  It  was  a  study  of  grace  and  earnestness. 
His  father  sat  near  me,  and  never  was  parent  more  de 
lighted.  The  whole  scene  was  touching  to  the  last  de 
gree.  ...  I  was  the  only  man  beside  Whitelaw  Reid 
who  was  present  from  the  committees." 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  235 

This  dinner  was  a  result  of  the  first  year's  work 
of  the  Intercollegiate  Literary  Association,  in  the 
establishment  of  which  Mr.  Fields  had  taken  a 
lively  interest.  Much  against  his  will,  in  face  of 
his  other  engagements,  he  was  chosen  one  of  the 
judges,  and  during  the  previous  months  had  been 
obliged  to  examine  and  pronounce  upon  a  large 
number  of  essays  in  company  with  his  co-workers, 
Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  and  Kichard  Grant 
White.  The  judges  of  oratory  that  same  year 
were,  William  Cullen  Bryant,  Whitelaw  Reid,  and 
George  William  Curtis. 

In  January,  1875,  he  again  went  as  far  west  as 
Buffalo,  returning  to  Philadelphia  and  the  vicin 
ity,  always  meeting  the  same  untiring  kindness 
and  hospitality. 

From  Buffalo  he  wrote  :  — 

"  I  have  just  come  back  from  St.  James  Hall  (where 
Dickens  read),  and  am  to  send  off  a  few  words  before  I 
go  to  roost  on  my  strange  perch.  And  first,  it  seemed 
as  if  old  «  Cheerfulness '  never  did  hit  the  mark  so  straight 
before.  It  took  like  vaccination.  They  wanted  me  to 
promise  to  come  again  before  I  left  the  hall,  but  darn 
'em,  it 's  too  far  away  from  you  and  home.  We  don't 
know  what  cold  weather  is  in  Boston.  Yesterday,  when 
we  got  to  Batavia,  the  glass  stood  at  ten  below  !  The 
pipes  in  the  cars  had  to  be  thawed  out  by  red  hot  irons 
constantly  run  into  them.  I  thought  we  should  never 
get  here,  and  I  wished  Buffalo  had  been  further,  and  I 


236  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

never  had  heard  of  it.  I  started  from  Boston  at  half- 
past  eight  A.  M.,  and  arrived  here  at  four  on  Tuesday 
morning,  nineteen  long  hours.  How  I  hated  my  voca 
tion  !  But  a  good  fire  was  burning  in  my  room  here, 
and  I  warmed  my  feet  and  went  to  bed,  to  be  up  early 
this  morning  and  off  to  the  Falls,  tired  as  I  was  all  over 
when  I  opened  my  eyes.  But  I  thought  I  would  go,  and 
am  glad  I  did.  Fine  as  the  sight  was,  in  its  way,  I  am 
glad  you  did  not  come,  for  the  weather  was  awful.  The 
wind  was  terrible.  It  blew  on  the  Suspension  Bridge 
to  such  an  extent  that  I  thought  the  sleigh  would  go 
over.  The  horses  seemed  bewildered  by  it,  and  stood 
motionless  several  times.  What  I  saw  was  a  sight  not 
to  be  forgotten,  but  it  is  not  Niagara  as  I  like  to  remem 
ber  it.  It  is  too  awful,  and  I  much  prefer  the  glory  of 
summer  flung  over  it.  Winter  is  to  me  ghastly  and  out 
of  place  over  such  a  spectacle,  and  I  hurried  away  from 
it  unreluctant  and  gladly. 

"  To-morrow  I  start  from  this  cold  country,  clad  in 
storm,  for  Pittsburgh  and  smoke.  I  shall  be  at  least 
twelve  hours  on  the  road,  and  perhaps  twenty,  as  the 
trains  are  all  obstructed  by  ice,  they  say.  Everybody  is 
furred  and  freezing  in  this  region.  The  wind  from  the 
lake  cuts  like  a  scythe.  My  eyes  all  day  feel  like  peeled 
substitutes,  and  I  long  to  exchange  them  for  the  old  ones 
in  Boston. 

"  Two  young  men  rode  forty  miles  to  hear  the  lecture 
to-night,  and  came  up  on  the  platform  to  ask  me  to 
speak  in  their  town  next  week.  One  of  them  had  a  face 
of  exquisite  beauty,  and  quite  touched  me  by  his  enthu 
siasm.  I  should  like  to  meet  him  again,  but  I  cannot 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  237 

go  to  his  place  among  the  Alleghanies.  This  life  of  travel 
in  cold  and  solitude  is  dreadful.  It  is  only  for  what  it 
brings  and  is  necessary,  that  I  would  do  it  any  longer. 
The  experience  on  this  trip  was  most  dreadful,  and  I  am 
thankful,  much  as  I  miss  your  dear  companionship,  that 
you  were  not  suffering  with  me  the  dreary  way.  To 
cross  the  icy  platforms  from  one  train  to  another,  and  the 
changes  are  constant,  would  have  exposed  you  to  chills 
you  never  felt  before.  The  air  was  full  of  needles,  and 
they  filled  my  lungs  till  I  could  feel  the  blood  trickling 
after  them.  It  was  infernal.  A  man  told  me  to-day 
that  Boston  air  in  winter  was  hot  compared  to  the  Buf 
falo  atmosphere. 

"  And  now,  God  bless  you,  my  love,  and  keep  you  safe 
from  all  harm.  Don't  be  without  some  one  near  you, 
to  whom  you  can  speak  in  the  night  if  you  wish  to.  I 
shall  try  hard  to  get  back  for  a  day  between  Canons- 
burgh  and  Rondout,  but  cannot  say  now,  for  I  don't 
know  the  routes.  I  hope  to  find  a  letter  at  Pittsburgh 
to-morrow." 

From  Pittsburgh  :  — 

"  Here  I  am  in  this  city  of  smoke,  and  feeling  like  a 
lump  of  soft  and  smutty  coke.  I  am  thankful  you  did 
not  start  with  me.  The  journey  across  here  from  Buf 
falo  was  beyond  cursing,  and  I  rejoice  you  were  not  here 
to  suffer  the  discomfort  all  the  way.  There  were  no 
drawing-room  cars,  and  the  heat  and  cold  were  awful 
even  for  old  salts  like  myself.  Twice  I  became  dizzy 
with  the  suffocating  horrors  of  the  stove,  and  once  half 


238  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

chilled  to  death  by  a  transfer.  I  got  here  at  midnight, 
and  found  a  room  heated  to  ninety  awaiting  me,  and  so 
I  scuttled  off  into  a  cold  one,  after  warming  my  feet  and 
hands.  .  .  .  You  can  have  no  notion  of  the  dirt  of  this 
city.  It  beats  all  the  English  atmospheres  I  have  ever 
seen.  London  is  bright  compared  to  it.  To-night  I 
speak  here  ;  to-morrow  in  Canonsburg,  and  next  day  I 
start  for  Philadelphia  and  New  York.  Whether  I  can 
go  on  home  or  no  before  I  go  to  Rondout,  I  cannot  now 
say,  as  I  don't  know  the  times  and  seasons  yet.  But  I 
thank  Providence  you  did  not  attempt  this  journey. 
You  never  could  have  endured  the  fatigue  and  no  com 
forts.  Nothing  to  eat  between  Buffalo  and  here  but  the 
steak  of  wild-cats  and  tigers.  I  never  saw  such  meat 
offered  to  man  before.  The  expense  of  railroad  travel 
is  simply  monstrous,  and  the  hotel  bills  are  prepos 
terous." 

Again  he  writes  from  a  small  town  on  the  Hud 
son  River  :  — 

"  I  can't  help  laughing  at  myself  for  being  here  !  Of 
all  the  god-forsaken  places  yet,  this  beats  the  world.  I 
have  just  been  out  into  the  streets  to  look  at  my  prob 
able  audience,  and  I  wish  I  had  anything  bad  enough  to 
offer  them  this  evening.  The  men  all  look  like  pirates 
on  low  wages,  who,  having  killed  off  decent  people,  have 
the  town  to  themselves,  and  are  now  out  of  employment. 
Hardly  a  decent  woman  is  to  be  seen,  and  the  children 
are  awful  in  their  ugliness.  The  views,  per  contra,  are 
glorious.  I  mounted  a  hill  just  now  and  looked  up  and 
down  the  river  of  ice  which  sparkled  with  wonderful 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  239 

beauty.     I  had  to  cross  from in  an  ice  sledge 

drawn  by  two  horses  and  filled  with  market  people. 
Coming  out  of  the  hot  cars  after  a  three  hours'  ride,  and 
getting  into  the  open  sledge,  was  simply  suicide  to  my 
throat,  which,  with  swelling  of  the  glands,  punishes  me 
for  being  such  a  fool  as  to  go  round  the  country  in  this 
wise." 

Again,  after  amusing  descriptions  of  people  and 
things,  he  writes  from  Philadelphia  and  Balti 
more  :  — 

"So  much  time  in  the  cars  destroys  me,  and  I  feel 
giddy  half  the  day.  I  feel  as  tired  and  dull  as  if  my 

name  were  ,  and  I  lived  in  B Street.     But  I 

must  tell  you  of  a  young  man  who  called  to-night  and 
kept  me  hating  him  for  an  hour.  He  said  he  belonged 
to  one  of  the  oldest  families  and  wanted  my  advice  as  to 
his  education.  He  wanted  to  attach  himself  to  me,  he 
said,  and  be  with  me  constantly.  He  wished  '  to  be  car 
ried  up  as  high  as  the  mind  of  man  could  go,  to  the 
extent  of  human  knowledge.'  He  brought  a  pocket 
full  of  poems  he  had  translated  from  the  German,  and 
he  troubled  and  detained  me  to  that  extent  I  could  have 
roasted  him  and  then  declined  to  eat  him.  A  letter  has 
just  been  handed  in  from  another  young  man  who  wishes 
an  interview  to-morrow.  Another  from  a  youth  who 
wishes  to  give  a  young  lady  friend  some  books  to  im 
prove  her  mind,  and  I  am  to  select  them  !  Also  notes 
inviting  me  to  dinners,  and  cards  from  people  with 
strange  names  !  The  lectures  are  slipping  off  the  string 
and  soon  all  will  be  over.  .  .  . 


240  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"I  have  just  written  to  Redpatli  to  cancel  all  engage 
ments  in  the  West  from  the  10th  of  February  to  the 
5th  of  March.  I  cannot  stand  it.  Traveling  takes  all 
vitality  out  of  me,  and  I  do  not  speak  so  well  and  vigor 
ously  as  audiences  demand  in  my  case.  I  can't  come  up 
to  expectation  after  a  railroad  headache  of  two  or  three 
hundred  miles  daily.  .  .  .  This  constant  call  to  read 
manuscripts  must  be  crushed  out.  Yesterday  a  man  sent 
up  his  card,  and  from  the  name  I  imagined  he  might  be 
some  lecture  committee,  so  I  said,  4  Let  him  come  up.' 
I  sat  writing  letters,  a  batch  of  which  comes  every  day, 
when  entered,  smiling,  a  tall,  well-dressed  chap,  who  asks 
4  if  he  can  engage  me  for  half  an  hour.'  '  For  what  pur 
pose  ? '  To  read  me  a  poem  he  had  written  and  get  my 
opinion  of  it !  !  I  sent  him  off,  telling  him  I  was  hard- 
of-hearing-poems-read.  .  .  . 

"  Last  night,  here  in  Philadelphia,  the  rain  poured 
and  the  streets  were  washed  as  with  a  flood,  but  my 
audience  was  a  beautiful  one,  both  in  numbers  and  qual 
ity.  The  night  before,  in  Baltimore,  the  largest  audi 
ence  ever  assembled  in  the  Peabody  Hall  to  hear  a  lec 
ture  crowded  the  building.  Being  Thanksgiving  night  I 
supposed  very  few  would  come,  but  the  aisles  were  full 
and  overflowing." 

Again  he  writes  from  a  college  town :  — 

"  I  can't  say  when  I  shall  return.  I  find  the  Faculty 
wish  me  to  give  another  lecture,  and  if  I  don't  do  it  I 
am  afraid  the  course  will  be  incomplete.  Last  night  the 
President  gave  a  levee  in  the  lecturer's  honor,  a  most 
pleasant  company.  But  the  plague  of  the  whole  thing 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  241 

is  that  everybody  wishes  you  to  do  everything :  to  drive, 
to  dine,  to  sup,  to  visit  halls,  to  become  a  member  of 
societies,  to  hear  classes  recite,  and  hop  about  generally. 
This,  as  you  know,  I  HATE  !  I  have  just  returned  from 
a  drive  behind  two  fast  trotters,  an  act  for  which  I  de 
serve  to  be  roasted.  I  had  not  the  wit  to  decline  the 
invitation,  and  so  I  went  and  nearly  froze  in  my  boots. 
It  began  to  snow  on  the  mountain  we  were  to  cross,  and 
for  eight  miles  I  had  sleet  in  my  eyes,  my  nose,  my 
mouth,  my  neck,  and  everywhere  else.  How  I  inwardly 
cursed  my  fate,  albeit  the  gentleman  who  drove  me  was 
most  kind  and  interesting." 

To  conclude  the  extracts  from  his  letters  I  will 
print  here  a  few  of  later  date,  and  thus  close  the 
subject  of  the  lectures  out  of  Boston :  — 

"  WILLIAMSTOWN,  MASS.,  Thursday,  1879. 

"  All  goes  well ;  grand  reception  ;  great  enthusiasm  ; 
and  crowded  chapel.  This  country  is  glorious  ;  I  never 
saw  anywhere  such  superb  hills,  although  they  are  now 
covered  with  snow.  The  valley  is  quite  as  fine  as  West 
moreland  vale.  The  moon  came  up  to-night  over  Gray- 
lock  grandly." 

"BAGG'S  HOTEL,  UTICA,  five  degrees  below  zero,  ) 
"  Tuesday  morning,  January  21,  1879.          ' 

"  DEAREST  A. :  Fine  audience ;  great  enthusiasm  ; 
papers  all  jubilant ;  can't  reach  Potsdam  this  time  I 
think.  Mrs.  P.  of  the  Seminary  is  a  very  exceptional 
lady  ;  has  a  grand  building  full  of  pupils,  and  does  things 
expensively.  She  only  cares  to  have  her  pupils  in  the 
lecture  room.  Autograph  books  flowing  in  abundantly. 
16 


242  BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

Invitations  ditto.  To-night,  after  the  lecture,  must  at 
tend,  they  say,  the  fashionable  club  of  Utica,  at  some 
body's  house.  Carriages  here  do  not  close  with  doors, 
but  only  with  leather  curtains.  Would  not  have  come 
if  I  had  known  this,  darn  'em.  But  such  rivers  of  kind 
ness  !  Such  delightful  expressive  folk  ! 

u  To-night  at  the  Seminary  again  ;  to-morrow  night  at 
the  Opera  House  here,  on  '  Cheerfulness ; '  next  night  in 
Brooklyn  ;  then  back  here  for  Clinton,  and  then  toward 
home  on  Saturday. 

"  P.  S.  This  hotel  is  comfortable,  but  full  of  mediae 
val  smells.  Sometimes  I  seem  to  detect  older  whiffs,  as 
if  Pharaoh  and  his  host  had  been  dipped  up  out  of  the 
Red  Sea,  and  put  in  pickle,  all  over  these  premises. 
Opening  a  drawer  just  now  I  nosed  a  mummy,  or  some 
thing  to  that  effect." 

"  UTICA,  NEW  YORK,  25th. 

"  Clinton  insists  upon  hearing  me  on  Saturday  eve 
ning.  So  I  cannot  be  home  until  Sunday  P.  M.,  about 
three. 

"  Perfectly  well,  and  discontented. 

"  Ever  yours. " 

In  the  year  1860  Mr.  Fields  received  a  cordial 
letter  from  Charles  Cowden  Clarke,  in  reply  to  a 
wish  expressed  by  him  that  Mr.  Clarke  would 
write  out  his  Kecollections  of  John  Keats  for  the 
"  Atlantic  Monthly."  This  letter  was  the  begin 
ning  of  a  delightful  correspondence  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Clarke,  which  has  never  ceased. 

In  1861  Mr.  Clarke  wrote :  — 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  243 

"  As  Mr.  Montague  Tigg  would  say,  4  There  must  be 
a  screw  of  enormous  magnitude  loose  somewhere,'  or  I 
should  surely,  ere  this,  have  heard  something  substantial 
and  satisfactory  of  the  four-and-twenty  numbers  of  the 
4  Atlantic  Monthly.'  It  is  my  opinion  that  you  all,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  great  water,  are  in  such  a  ferment 
with  your  never-ending,  still  beginning  politics ;  and 
with  your  secession  and  non-secession  ;  your  union  and 
separation  ;  and  with  your  foolish  tariff  (the  free  trade 
of  France  and  Belgium,  and  soon  with  the  kingdom  of 
Italy,  will  make  your  selfish  legislators  wise  —  perhaps 
—  in  time),  all  these  circumstances  have  loosened  this 
4  enormous  screw '  of  my  monthly  Atlantic  parcel ;  and 
my  belief  is  that  THE  one  of  your  4  helps,'  whose  busi 
ness  it  is  to  pack  and  send  out  London  packages,  has 
been  attending  some  Republican  meeting,  and  that  the 
twenty-four  numbers  are  now  in  the  packing-room  of 
Messrs.  Ticknor  &  Fields  ! 

44  I  hope  you  have  received  long  ere  this  the  manu 
script  of  i  The  Cornice  in  Rain.'  .  .  . 

44  My  brother  has  purchased  an  estate  at  Genoa,  and 
I  dare  say  my  next  letter  will  date  from  there.  My 
address  will  be  '  Villa  Novello,  in  Corignano,  Genoa.' 
When  we  are  settled  and  at  peace  (for  we  are  now  in 
the  turmoil  of  moving),  we  will  try  to  think  of  some 
things  we  remember  in  dearly  beloved  Charles  Lamb. 

44  With  our  kind  regards, 

44  Yours,  my  dear  Mr.  Fields, 

"Very  faithfully, 

44  C.  COWDEN  CLARKE." 


244  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

This  was  the  first  intimation  we  received  of  the 
new  life  of  Charles  and  Mary  Cowden  Clarke  in 
Genoa,  at  the  beautiful  Villa  Novello,  whence  let 
ters  full  of  English  literature  and  Italian  landscape 
scenery,  during  more  than  twenty  years  have  been 
gratefully  received. 

Early  in  1877  came  the  sad  news  of  Mr.  Clarke's 
death.  In  May  of  that  year  Mrs.  Clarke  gener 
ously  wrote  :  — 

"  I  despatch  by  book-post  to-day  a  memorial  that  I  — 
knowing  your  genial  nature  and  your  appreciation  of 
that  of  my  beloved  husband  —  feel  sure  you  will  like  to 
have.  It  is  the  original  copy  of  my  Charles's  first  lecture 
on  Shakespeare's  characters ;  one  which  he  most  fre 
quently  delivered  of  all  the  series.  .  .  . 

u  Your  tender  hearts  will  take  joy  to  know  that  mine 
had  the  comfort  of  seeing  vouchsafed  a  peaceful  close  to 
an  exceptionally  peaceful,  happy  life  ;  it  was  soft  and  gen 
tle,  a  painless  and  gradual  ceasing  to  breathe,  while  the 
spring  afternoon  sunshine  streamed  in  upon  us  both. 
Thank  God,  my  health  never  broke  down  while  he  was 
ill,  so  that  I  was  able  to  be  with  him  hourly,  night  and 
day,  to  the  very  last  moment.  Patient,  contented,  placid 
was  he  throughout,  and  true  to  his  beautiful,  trustful 
nature.  His  own  most  characteristic  lines,  the  '  Hie 
jacet,'  from  the  i  Carmina  Minima,'  have  been  inscribed 
on  one  side  of  the  gravestone,  and  on  the  other  his  chosen 
crest  and  motto,  with  simply  his  beloved  name  and  the 
date  of  his  birth  and  of  his  quitting  earth.  Violets  and 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  245 

daisies  grew  amid  the  turf  near  about  the  spot,  that 
March  morning  when  I  first  looked  upon  it ;  birds  and 
bees  come  there ;  the  green  hills  slope  up  around  on 
every  side,  and  all  seems  to  embody  the  very  '  cheerful 
quiet '  he  himself  desired  for  his  resting-place.  So  many 
years  of  joy,  so  many  granted  mercies,  ought  to  tran 
quillize  me,  and  fill  me  only  with  gratitude  ;  but  you, 
dear  friends,  will  understand  the  anguish  that  is  mine, 
even  when  I  am  most  grateful." 

With  the  date  of  1859  I  find  the  first  of  a  series 
of  letters  also,  from  Mrs.  Lydia  Maria  Child,  which 
lasted  to  the  end  of  her  life.  They  are  full  of 
wisdom,  wit,  and  character.  She  has  apparently 
a  very  slight  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Fields  at  the 
first  writing,  because  she  says,  after  requesting 
him  to  do  her  some  slight  favor  in  forwarding  a 
book  to  London :  — 

"  I  venture  to  take  this  liberty  with  you  in  preference 
to  any  of  my  relatives  or  personal  friends  ;  first,  because 
I  wish  to  do  the  thing  privately  without  exciting  any 
conversation  about  it ;  and  secondly,  because  your  coun 
tenance  gives  me  the  impression  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
you  to  oblige  others.  Trusting  to  this  assurance,  I  be 
lieve  you  will  excuse  the  freedom  I  take. 
"  And  I  am  very  respectfully  yours, 

"L.  MARIA  CHILD." 

In  1863  she  writes  :  — 

"  I  have  a  project  very  much  at  heart,  in  which  I 
greatly  desire  your  cooperation.  In  the  course  of  my 


246  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

reading,  for  several  years,  I  have  been  collecting  articles 
to  form  a  Christmas  gift-book  for  the  old.  I  have  a  col 
lection  of  gems  from  various  sources,  English,  American, 
French,  German,  Grecian,  Roman,  etc.,  poetry,  stories, 
essays,  extracts  from  remarkable  sermons,  etc.  When  I 
say  gems,  I  do  not,  in  every  instance,  mean  it  in  a  lit 
erary  point  of  view,  for  some  of  the  articles  I  have  se 
lected  are  extremely  simple  in  their  character,  but  they 
are  all  gems  in  the  way  of  producing  a  cheerful,  elevating 
influence  on  the  minds  of  the  old.  They  are  all  calcu 
lated  to  make  them  '  feel  chipper,'  as  the  old  phrase  is. 
I  have  also  written  eight  or  ten  articles,  which  have  the 
same  character.  While  tending  upon  my  aged  father,  I 
greatly  felt  the  want  of  books  serious  enough  to  suit 
him,  and  yet  cheerful.  The  great  fault  with  all  that  is 
written  or  preached  to  the  old  is  that  it  is  too  solemn. 
It  is  4  carrying  coals  to  Newcastle,'  for  the  old  are  too 
prone  to  take  a  solemn  view  of  things. 

"  I  have  endeavored  to  carry  out  the  idea  first  sug 
gested  to  me  by  my  father's  wants,  and  it  is  a  cherished 
•wish  with  me  to  make  this  benefaction  to  the  old  before 
I  die.  A  great  deal  depends  on  the  manner  of  publish 
ing,  and  above  all  publishers  in  the  country  you  would 
be  my  choice." 

Again  in  the  same  year  Mrs.  Child  says  :  — 

"  I  agree  with  you,  that  it  would  not  be  well  to  get 
out  the  book  in  a  hurry,  but  I  cannot  deny  that  I  am 
grievously  disappointed.  This  year  has  been  peculiarly 
full  of  sadness  and  disappointments.  The  sudden  break 
ing  down  of  my  brother's  vigorous  health,  ending  speed- 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  247 

ily  in  death ;  my  painful  sympathy  with  the  parents  of 
Colonel  Shaw,  the  earliest,  the  latest,  the  most  reliable, 
the  best  friends  of  my  life ;  the  destruction  of  half  our 
house  by  fire,  with  the  consequent  desolation,  toil,  and 
confusion,  continuing  up  to  the  present  moment,  has 
made  the  year  a  very  dreary  one  to  me  ;  and  the  only 
ray  of  happiness  I  had  was  the  prospect  of  sending  my 
book  round  to  old  acquaintances  and  friends,  with  the 
feeling  that  it  may  cheer  and  console  their  pathway  to 
the  sunset. 

'*  But  '  what  cannot  be  cured  must  be  endured,'  and  I 
have  become  an  experimental  and  practical  philosopher 
in  that  way. 

"  I  would  suggest  the  propriety  of  having  more  than 
one  copy  in  existence.  The  manuscript  is  in  the  prin 
ter's  hands,  and  if  it  should  be  consumed  by  fire,  it 
would  be  a  tedious  and  difficult  process  for  me  to  restore 
it.  In  view  of  the  uncertainty  of  human  life,  I  would 
also  suggest  the  propriety  of  having  some  contract  signed. 
The  book  is  so  nearly  printed,  would  it  not  be  best  to 
finish  setting  it  up,  and  let  it  all  stand  in  type  ?  Then 
the  manuscript  might  be  preserved  in  another  place. 

"  When  I  come  to  Boston,  I  will  try  to  see  you  for  a 
few  minutes.  We  have  so  many  workmen  here,  with 
piles  of  bricks  and  boards,  and  no  pair  of  hands  but 
my  own  to  provide  for  them,  that  I  cannot  at  present 
appoint  a  time,  with  any  certainty  of  keeping  my  prom 
ise.  Yours  very  cordially, 

"L.  MAEIA  CHILD." 

The  next  year  she  writes  :  — 

"  I  used  to  begin  with  Dear  sir,  now  Dear  Mr.  Fields 


248  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

has  slipped  from  my  pen  ;  perhaps  the  next  thing  will 
be  Dear  Friend.  The  length  of  our  acquaintance  hardly 
warrants  it,  but  it  would  be  only  the  spontaneous  ex 
pression  of  my  feelings  ;  so,  if  it  should  so  happen,  you 
will  not  perhaps  consider  me  obtrusive.  .  .  . 

"  There  is  good  taste  in  the  suggestion  about  the  title- 
page.  My  favorite  red  letters  would  need  a  florid,  me 
dieval  vignette.  They  would  pale  Darley's  vignette  too 
much.  They  would  be  like  a  trumpet  accompaniment 
to  '  John  Anderson,  my  Jo.'  I  am  sorry  to  give  them 
up,  but  I  see  that  it  is  fitting. 

"  I  take  infinite  satisfaction  in  looking  at  my  photo 
graph  of  Thorwaldsen's  Winter.  Thank  you  a  thousand 
times  for  it.  I  have  very  little  opportunity  to  see  works 
of  art,  and  my  passion  for  them  no  amount  of  years  or 
discouragements  can  chill. 

"  With  kindest  remembrance  to  Mrs.  Fields,  I  am 
most  cordially  yours,  L.  MARIA  CHILD." 

In  one  of  her  notes  she  says :  — 

"  My  sympathies  tend  as  inevitably  toward  the  masses 
as  Willis's  do  toward  the  *  upper  ten.'  I  have  not  the 
slightest  talent  for  respectability.  ...  I  send  a  copy 
of  ;  The  New  Flowers  for  Children,'  which  you  can  trans 
fer  to  some  little  friend,  when  you  have  read  it.  I  send 
it,  because  I  want  you  to  read  '  The  Royal  Rose-Bud,' 
founded  on  exceedingly  slight  hints  in  history.  All  who 
write  con  amore,  as  I  must  do  if  I  write  at  all,  are  ex 
tremely  pleased,  I  suppose,  with  everything  they  write 
at  the  moment  of  writing.  At  least  that  is  the  case  with 
me.  But  very  few  pieces  continue  to  be  favorites.  I 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.       249 

grow  indifferent  to  most  things  I  have  written,  and  have 
a  decided  distaste  for  some,  but  ;  The  Royal  Rose-Bud ' 
is  a  permanent  favorite  with  me,  therefore  I  want  you  to 
read  it.  Cordially  yours, 

"L.  MARIA  CHILD." 

In  1866  she  continues  :  — 

"  I  should  have  more  heart  for  work,  if  that  tipsy 
tailor  were  not  so  misguiding  the  ship  of  State.  To 
have  for  captain,  in  a  storm,  a  man  not  fit  for  a  cabin 
boy! 

"  I  feel  very  anxious  and  despondent  about  the  pros 
pects  of  my  poor  proteges,  the  freed  men.  There  was 
such  a  capital  chance  to  place  the  Republic  on  a  safe  and 
honorable  foundation,  and  we  have  lost  it,  by  the  narrow 
prejudices  and  blind  self-will  of  that  'poor  white! ' 

"  Well,  we  need  more  suffering  for  our  sins,  and  if  it 
were  not  that  the  poor  blacks  have  the  most  of  the  suf 
fering,  I  could  bow  my  head  in  patient  resignation. 
"  I  am  very  cordially  your  friend, 

"L.  MARIA  CHILD." 

In  1867  she  says  :  — 

"  After  you  have  read  my  manuscript  I  should  like  to 
have  you  write  a  few  lines,  to  inform  me  whether  you 
think  the  old  woman's  imagination  needs  *  the  prayers 
of  the  congregation,  being  in  a  very  weak  and  low  con 
dition.'  " 

"  WAYLAND,  February  27,  1873. 

"DEAR  MR.  FIELDS:  What  bird  of  the  air  sung  to 
you  that  I  alighted  on  this  planet  the  llth  of  February  ? 
If  any  one  whom  I  like  knows  it,  I  am  particularly  grati- 


250  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

fied  to  have  them  remember  it.  But  I  never  imagined 
that  you  knew  the  date  of  my  advent.  To  be  remem 
bered  by  one's  friends  at  Christmas  and  New  Years'  time 
is  pleasant  enough,  but  everybody  is  remembered  then ; 
but  to  send  tokens  of  remembrance  on  a  birthday  ^  that  is 
something  delightfully  complimentary  and  exclusive.  It 
is,  in  fact,  my  pet  weakness.  I  have  never,  you  know, 
outgrown  my  first  childhood,  and  it  will  probably  re 
main  till  I  enter  upon  my  second.  I  exult  and  crow  over 
a  birthday  present  from  any  friend,  or  congenial  ac 
quaintance,  as  a  two-year-old  does  over  a  new  pair  of  red 
shoes." 

This  series  of  extracts  from  Mrs.  Child's  letters 
may  fitly  close  with  a  tiny  note  written  after  Mr. 
Fields  ceased  to  be  a  publisher  of  books :  — 

"DEAR  MR.  FIELDS:  Thanks  for  your  note,  giving 
fresh  indication  of  your  kind  interest  in  my  little  book. 
I  feel  the  more  grateful  to  you,  because  I  have  no  hus 
band  or  son,  brother  or  nephew,  to  care  for  my  success, 
and  I  have  lived  so  much  apart  from  the  world,  that  no 
circle  or  sect  is  in  communion  with  me.  This  is  a  state 
of  things  uncomfortably  lonely,  though  highly  favorable 
to  independence  of  thought. 

"  I  have  written  with  a  conscientious  wish  to  help  on 
the  progress  of  the  world,  but  whether  any  considerable 
number  of  people  want  such  help,  remains  to  be  proved. 
It  is  a  mere  lottery.  If  the  publishers  do  not  lose  by  it, 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

"  Gratefully  and  cordially  yours, 

"L.  MARIA  CHILD." 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.       251 

In  narrating  the  occupations  and  sequence  of 
the  years  I  have  omitted  any  list  of  Mr.  Fields's 
published  books.  I  have  mentioned  that  in  the 
autumn  of  1870  he  was  relieved  from  the  cares  of 
business,  and  it  was  in  the  following  autumn  that 
his  first  book,  "  Yesterdays  with  Authors,"  made  its 
appearance.  The  cordial  welcome  this  first  ven 
ture  received  was  a  great  pleasure ;  indeed,  the 
book  gave  him  a  double  happiness,  first,  in  the 
doing,  because  the  nature  of  its  pages  was  like  a 
renewal  of  old  companionships  rather  than  a  labor, 
and  second,  in  its  hearty  reception.  In  1881  the 
book  had  passed  through  twenty  editions. 

To  the  completion  of  "  Yesterdays  with  Au 
thors/*  succeeded  the  work  of  writing  and  deliv 
ering  the  twenty-seven  lectures,  to  which  we  have 
already  referred  elsewhere. 

In  the  year  1877  he  printed  a  collection  of  his 
brief  papers  in  prose,  under  the  title  of  "  Under 
brush."  Of  this  little  volume  a  new  and  enlarged 
edition  was  printed  in  1881.  In  the  autumn  of 
1878  appeared  "The  Family  Library  of  British 
Poetry,"  the  joint  labor  of  Mr.  Whipple  and  Mr. 
Fields,  a  book  which  has  no  rival  of  its  size,  num 
berless  as  are  the  collections  of  poetry.  Finally,  in 
1881,  under  similar  title,  was  published  a  thin  vol 
ume,  entitled  "  Ballads  and  other  Verses,"  which 
did  not  fail  to  attract  a  large  company  of  readers. 


252  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Grave  and  gay,  old  and  young,  wished  to  possess 
themselves  of  its  contents,  and  "  its  excuse  for 
being "  was  derived  through  public  as  well  as 
private  avenues. 

Meanwhile  the  old  habit  of  writing,  more  or 
less,  for  public  journals,  and  private  clubs  and 
companies,  was  never  altogether  relinquished.  He 
was  one  of  the  contributors  to  the  "  Youth's  Com 
panion,"  where  he  printed  a  long  list  of  papers 
especially  prepared  to  interest  children  in  litera 
ture.  Among  the  subjects  treated  in  this  manner 
I  find  Audubon,  Tennyson,  Washington  Irving, 
Charles  Dickens,  Charles  Lamb,  Wordsworth,  Tom 
Hood,  Walter  Scott,  Mrs.  Browning,  Adelaide 
Procter,  Thomas  Campbell,  Nathaniel  Hawthorne, 
Macaulay,  W.  H.  Prescott,  Leigh  Hunt,  Miss  Mit- 
ford,  and  "  A  Group  of  Famous  American  Au 
thors."  The  editors  of  this  paper  continually 
proved  the  value  they  set  upon  his  work,  by  their 
eager  acceptance  of  whatever  he  would  choose  to 
send  them.  In  this  little  paper  also  were  printed 
many  of  his  verses  which  he  chose  not  to  include 
in  his  last  volume.  I  venture  to  preserve  two 
stanzas,  which  should  not  be  lost :  — 

"When  the  wind  is  blowing  fair, 

Any  ship  to  port  may  steer; 
Prows  that  head-seas  bravely  dare, 
Master  .fate  and  conquer  fear. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  253 

"  Souls  that,  freed  from  prison  bars, 

Struck  the  blows  themselves  that  won, — 
Grappling  with  their  evil  stars, 
Stand,  like  Uriel,  in  the  sun  !  " 

It  would  be  useless  to  try  to  trace  his  scattered 
literary  productions.  Mention  has  been  made  of 
the  most  important.  It  is  interesting,  however, 
to  recall,  with  all  his  industry  and  achievement, 
how  impossible  it  was  to  make  him  feel  as  if  he 
were  interrupted  when  he  was  at  work.  He  was 
ready  for  others  if  he  were  wanted,  and  it  was 
always  somebody  else  who  said  he  was  busy;  he 
seldom  made  the  excuse  for  himself.  This  record 
has,  however,  failed  of  its  purpose  if  it  has  not 
been  able  to  convey,  otherwise  than  by  mere 
words,  the  generosity,  kindness,  justice,  and  self- 
poise  which  characterized  him.  Many  tributes  to 
his  generosity  and  kindness  lie  around  me,  but 
to  make  evident  that  these  qualities  were  the 
every-day  atmosphere  of  his  life,  is  far  more  im 
portant  than  to  be  able  to  recall  a  generous  deed 
or  a  kind  word  which  might  be  set  down  here. 
Of  the  joyousness  and  elasticity  of  his  nature, 
tempered  by  his  other  qualities,  we  are  reminded 
by  a  verse  from  William  Blake :  — 

"  He  who  bends  to  his  life  a  joy, 
Does  the  winged  life  destroy; 
But  he  who  kisses  the  joy  as  it  flies, 
Lives  in  eternity's  sunrise." 


254  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

Of  his  helpfulness  the  world  has  often  spoken, 
but  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  say,  that  if 
money  were  to  be  taken  in  charge  for  aunts  or 
cousins,  James  was  the  person  called  upon.  If 
New  York  editors  wished  a  new  man  for  some  im 
portant  post,  they  would  send  for  Mr.  Fields's 
advice  and  suggestion.  Public  readers  would  come 
to  rehearse  their  parts,  and  learn  what  to  read  as 
well  as  how  to  read ;  young  lecturers  with  their 
lectures ;  graduates,  girls  and  boys,  to  know  what 
to  do  next  in  life ;  and  of  authors  and  their  manu 
scripts,  as  I  have  before  said,  he  was  never  free. 
His  judgment  and  good  sense  were  as  sure  and  as 
swift  as  his  sympathy. 

Mr.  Fields  had  not  the  time,  or  perhaps  lacked 
the  inclination,  to  make  extracts  from  books  for 
his  own  use.  His  memory  was  so  faithful  a  ser 
vant  that  he  generally  knew  where  to  find  any 
passage  which  had  once  impressed  itself  upon  his 
mind  ;  but,  long  before  Mr.  Bartlett's  excellent 
book  of  "  Familiar  Quotations  "  was  published,  Mr. 
Fields  had  printed  a  sheet  of  four  pages  for  the  con 
venience  of  replying  to  the  many  persons  who 
were  constantly  sending  to  him  to  find  the  origin 
of  certain  much  quoted  passages. 

There  is  a  large  volume,  however,  which  was 
a  kind  of  common  repository  for  such  things  as  we 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  255 

feared  might  slip  away  from  us,  on  the  fly-leaf  of 
which  he  inscribed  the  following  motto  :  — 

This  is  the  coin  that  ne'er  grows  light  in  use, 
The  gold  that  oftenest  handled  brighter  glows. 

OLD  PLAY. 

Between  the  two  covers  lies  a  kind  of  epitome 
of  the  books  we  enjoyed,  more  or  less  together, 
during  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  life.  Here, 
beside  the  sifted  gold  of  literature,  1  find  occa 
sional  quotations  from  conversation.  In  one  place, 

"  Agassiz  says  that  the  world,  in  dealing  with  a  new 
truth,  passes  through  three  stages.  First,  saying  that  it 
is  not  true  ;  second,  that  it  is  contrary  to  religion  ;  third, 
that  it  was  known  before." 

44  Kingsley  said  one  night,  if  he  could  have  but  one 
book  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  he  should  choose  the  4  Faerie 
Queene '  above  all  and  without  hesitation ;  nothing  so 
rested  him  and  took  him  out  of  himself." 

"BROOKLYN,  N.  Y.,  1874. 

"  Every  attention  is  paid  here  to  Mr.  Fields.  The 
people  appear  truly  delighted  with  his  lectures.  One 
old  lady,  seeing  the  pleasure  he  felt  in  receiving  some 
flowers,  said  :  i  There !  I  might  have  brought  you  my 
hyacinth.  I  have  one  growing  out  of  a  sponge,  which  I 
planted  in  the  autumn;  'tis  Justin  perfection  now.  I 
wish  I  had  brought  it ! '  " 

One  night  while  Dickens  was  in  America,  after 
a  reading,  as  we  sat  at  supper  together,  J.,  in  his 
own  laughing  way,  and  partly  to  excite  Dickens 


256  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

to  repeat  a  certain  passage  in  the  evening's  per 
formance,  began  by  giving  a  portion  of  it  himself. 
"That's  it,"  said  Dickens  thoughtfully,  yet  half 
laughing,  "  my  dear  boy,  you  '11  be  doing  it  your 
self  some  day." 

"  NEW  YORK,  Sunday,  March  8. 

"  Mr.  Bryant  said  this  afternoon,  that  no  one  could 
impress  upon  the  people  of  this  country  so  well  as  Mr. 
Fields  the  value  and  importance  of  the  study  of  English 
literature.  Also,  that  no  one  can  know  more  than  one 
language  thoroughly  well." 

Sydney  Smith's  "  Lectures  on  Moral  Philoso 
phy,"  was  a  favorite  book  of  Mr.  Fields,  and  I 
find  several  passages  quoted  from  it,  especially  a 
fine  one  on  the  use  of  history,  concluding  with 
these  words  :  "  For  the  object  of  common  men  is 
only  to  live.  The  object  of  such  men  as  I  have 
spoken  of  was  to  live  grandly,  and  in  favor  with 
their  own  difficult  spirits  ;  to  live,  if  in  war,  glori 
ously  ;  if  in  peace,  usefully,  justly,  and  freely." 
Among  contemporary  writers  he  read  everything 
of  Mr.  Froude's  with  the  deepest  interest,  and  I 
find  many  traces  of  his  books  among  these  quota 
tions. 

A  quatrain,  quoted  by  Dr.  Johnson,  and  said  by 
him  to  have  been  written  by  an  obscure  poet,  a 
clergyman  by  the  name  of  Gifford,  was  a  favorite 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  257 

of  Mr.  Fields.     The  poem  to  which  this  quatrain 
was  said  to  belong  has  never  been  discovered : 


"  Verse  sweetens  toil,  however  rude  the  sound  ; 

All  at  her  work  the  village  maiden  sings  ; 
Nor  while  she  turns  the  giddy  wheel  around, 
Revolves  the  sad  vicissitude  of  things." 

I  also  find  the  following  :  — 

^'Quillinan  writes  to  H.  Crabbe  Eobinson  (and  Mr. 
Fields  possesses  something  of  the  same  feeling),  « I  will 
not  reveal  to  you,  for  you  could  not  comprehend,  my 
idolatry  of  Pope  from  my  boyhood,'  etc."1 

"  Finished  '  Life  of  Lord  Jeffrey.'  How  often  lately 
we  have  said  what  I  find  set  down  here,  « The  best  use 
of  going  abroad  is  to  make  one  fond  of  home.'  " 

Again  :  — 

"Nothing  shows  Boythorn  in  more  brilliant  or  en 
chanting  colors  than  his  declaration,  with  tremendous 
emphasis,  that  he  had  never  in  his  life  regretted  any- 
thing  so  much  as  his  having  failed  to  carry  out  his  in 
tention  of  purchasing  that  house,  35  St.  James  Square, 
Bath,  where  the  first  idea  of  <  Little  Nell '  came  to  Dick 
ens  in  one  of  his  birthday  visits  to  London  with  Forster, 
4  and  then  and  there  to  have  burned  it  to  the  ground,  to 
the  end  that  no  meaner  association  should  ever  desecrate 
the  birthplace  of  "  Little  Nell."  '  " 

The  following  parody  was  also  preserved  by  me 
in  these  pages :  — 

1  See  page  222,  vol.  iii. 
17 


258  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 


LINES    ON    FINDING   A    WATCHMAN    SOUND    ASLEEP   AT    MIDNIGHT 
ON    MY   DOORSTEPS. 

J.    T.    F. 

How  sleep  the  brave,  who  sink  to  rest, 
By  all  the  city-rascals  blest  ! 
When  Night,  with  snowy  fingers  cold, 
Returns  to  freeze  the  watery  mould, 
She  there  shall  meet  a  sounder  sod, 
Than  Fancy's  feet  have  ever  trod. 

By  fire-y  hands  our  knell  is  rung, 

By  forms  unseen  our  locks  are  sprung; 

There  burglars  come, — black,  white,  and  gray, — 

To  bless  the  steps  that  wrap  their  clay  : 

While  watchmen  do  awhile  repair, 

And  dwell,  like  sleeping  hermits,  there. 

See  COLLINS'S  ODE. 

Again,  the  following  quotation  to  recall  an  ex 
cursion  to  the  hills  :  — 

"  PLYMOUTH,  N.  H.,  June,  1872. 
"  Arrived  there  the  little  house  they  fill, 

Ne  look  for  entertainment  where  none  was; 

Rest  is  their  feast,  and  all  things  at  their  will; 

The  noblest  mind  the  best  contentment  has. 

SPENSER'S  FAERIE  QUEENE,  CANTO  I." 

One  of  the  pleasures  of  Mr.  Fields's  life  thus 
far  unmentioned  was  in  listening  to  music.  Few 
persons,  themselves  unskilled  in  the  art,  ever  found 
so  keen  enjoyment  in  or  comprehended  better  the 
best  work  of  the  best  artists.  That  unusual  pleas 
ure,  in  the  library  of  a  man  of  letters,  of  hearing 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  259 

fine  music,  was  often  enjoyed  in  his.  No  one  could 
take  greater  pride  and  satisfaction  in  the  success 
of  any  new  performance  or  special  musical  event 
than  he.  He  lost  many  public  occasions  for  listen 
ing  to  music  from  fatigue  or  preoccupation ;  but 
his  delight  in  the  neighborhood  and  friendship  of 
one  of  Germany's  most  distinguished  musicians, 
and  his  enjoyment  while  hearing  him  play  in  pri 
vate,  must  be  a  compensation  to  recall  among  the 
many  dissatisfactions  attending  any  musical  ca 
reer. 

"  I  would  rather  be  a  fine  tenor  singer,"  he 
used  to  say,  "than  anything  else  in  the  world." 

He  possessed  the  power  of  attuning  the  musi 
cians  themselves,  which  is  so  seldom  seen.  A  mo 
ment  appointed  for  music  seems  sometimes  alien 
to  the  mood,  unapt  things  are  said  or  done,  and 
everything  drifts  away  from  the  musical  atmos 
phere  ;  but  he  could  always  bring  the  circle  round 
with  a  natural  ease  both  reassuring  and  stimulat 
ing. 

His  musical  friends  who  must  miss  henceforth 
his  "  fine  ear,"  will  recognize  the  truth  of  these 
words,  and  will  remember  his  gratitude  for  the 
pleasure  they  generously  gave  him. 

Among  the  published  tributes  to  Mr.  Fields,  I 
would  place  first  the  following  extract  from  a  dis 
course  by  his  friend  Dr.  C.  A.  Bartol :  — 


260  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  Having  known  him  well  for  forty  years,  and  lived 
with  him  summer  after  summer  in  the  same  house,  I 
must  swear  I  have  not  known  a  better  tempered  man, 
.  .  .  but  whoever  suspected  he  would  lack  nerve  made  a 
great  mistake." 

From  the  tender  and  discerning  words  of  Miss 
Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps,  printed  in  the  "  New 
York  Independent,"  I  quote  as  follows  :  — 

"  Of  all  men  whom  I  have  known,  he  was  one  of  the 
most  heartily  and  humanly  helpful.  Whether  this  was 
instinct,  or  acquisition,  or  both,  I  cannot  say  (in  no  re 
spect  do  natures  differ  more  than  in  the  naturalness  with 
which  they  lend  a  hand)  ;  but  it  was,  at  least,  habitual 
and  thorough.  Those  who  think  of  him  chiefly  in  the 
glitter  of  life,  in  the  foam  of  things,  doing  what  it  was 
pleasant  to  do,  receiving  what  was  more  blessed  than 
giving,  and  giving  what  was  better  than  receiving,  know 
not  of  whom  they  speak.  The  scholar,  the  wit,  the 
author,  the  host  who  rested  his  guest,  the  guest  whom 
everybody  wanted,  the  friend  of  distinguished  men  and 
women,  the  patron  of  struggling  talent,  the  recipient  and 
the  bestower  of  select  inspirations  — all  this  he  was.  He 
had  life's  fine  wine  ;  but  he  was  and  had  because  he 
earned  and  held.  He  was  not  one  of  the  rose-wrapped, 
predestined  sybarites.  He  got  his  good  things,  as  Lady 
Holland  once  said,  with  her  haughty  smile,  of  the  Order 
of  the  Garter,  4  by  deserving  '  them.  .  .  . 

"  It  was  a  phase  of  his  essential  fidelity  of  nature  which 
gave  him  so  marked  a  usefulness  among  the  men  who 
have  had  the  graver  interests  of  women  very  near  at 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  261 

heart.  His  real  chivalry  surpassed  that  of  almost  any 
man  I  ever  knew.  He  could  not,  even  after  his  illness, 
ask  a  servant  to  help  him  on  with  his  coat  without  a 
beautiful  accent,  like  a  deferent  regret.  She  was  a 
woman  ;  he  would  have  spared  her.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  wished  that  men  who  regard  irritability  of 
temper  as  a  man's,  and  especially  a  literary  man's  pre 
rogative,  could  have  sat  at  his  feet  and  learned  how 
manly  it  is  to  be  agreeable  at  home.  All  the  genial, 
loyal,  unselfish  qualities  in  Mr.  Fields  struck  through. 
They  had  the  penetrative  character  of  what  are  called 
the  '  honest  colors '  in  a  dye." 

Mr.  S.  C.  Hall  sent  the  following  touching  trib 
ute  from  England  :  — 

" 1  learn  with  deep  sorrow  the  departure  from  earth 
life  of  a  most  excellent  and  estimable  man,  when  it 
would  seem  to  us  his  long  career  of  usefulness  might  have 
been  largely  extended — even  to  an  age  such  as  mine  — 
just  eighty-one  years  !  He  had  done  his  work  well,  and 
has  his  reward  among  'good  and  faithful  servants.' 

"  But  the  loss  is  a  loss  to  all  human  kind ;  to  his  own 
great  country  first,  but  as  certainly  to  ours.  I  can  do 
little  or  nothing  but  honor  his  memory,  and  grieve  that 
I  have  lost  a  valuable  and  valued  friend.  But  it  cannot 
be  a  far  time  hence  when  I  shall  see  him  again. 

"I  receive  this  day  a  letter  written  by  him  dated 
April  IT. 

"  I  do  not  postpone  the  sad  but  solemn  duty  of  writing 
to  whoever  may  be  his  representatives,  praying  God  to 
console  and  comfort  those  who  remain  after  him,  to  con 
tinue  a  weary  pilgrimage  on  earth. 


262  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

"  For  myself,  I  am  waiting  but  yearning  for  the  call 
that  shall  be  a  summons  to  join  my  beloved  wife;  to  be 
with  her  as  I  know  she  is  with  me. 

"  May  God  in  his  goodness  and  mercy  give  to  those  I 
address  the  light  He  has  given  to  me. 

"S.  C.  HALL. 

"To  THE  FAMILY  OF  JAMES  T.  FIELDS." 

Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  wrote  privately  of 
Mr.  Fields  (and  I  trust  he  and  other  friends, 
whose  letters  may  be  quoted,  will  forgive  this 
public  recognition  of  the  value  set  upon  their  af 
fectionate  words) :  — 

"  The  regrets  of  multitudes  of  friends,  more  than  you 
can  hear  or  know  of,  have  followed  the  departing  spirit 
of  him  who  has  left  us,  and  their  deep  silent  sympathy 
abides  with  you.  How  many  writers  know,  as  I  have 
known,  his  value  as  a  literary  counsellor  and  friend ! 
His  mind  was  as  hospitable  as  his  roof,  which  has  ac 
cepted  famous  visitors  and  quiet  friends  alike  as  if  it  had 
been  their  own.  From  a  very  early  period  in  my  own 
life  of  authorship,  I  have  looked  to  Mr.  Fields  as  one 
who  would  be  sure  to  take  an  interest  in  whatever  I 
wrote,  to  let  me  know  all  that  he  could  learn  about  my 
writings  which  would  please  and  encourage  me,  and 
keep  me  in  heart  for  new  efforts.  And  what  I  can  say 
for  myself  many  and  many  another  can  say  with  equal 
truth.  Very  rarely,  if  ever,  has  a  publisher  enjoyed  the 
confidence  and  friendship  of  so  wide  and  various  a  circle 
of  authors.  And  so  when  he  came  to  give  the  time  to 
authorship,  which  had  always  for  many  years  been  de- 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  263 

voted  to  literature,  he  found  a  listening  and  reading  pub 
lic  waiting  for  him  and  welcoming  him." 

Mr.  Richard  H.  Dana  wrote  from  Rome,  May, 

1881:- 

"  It  is  chiefly  with  my  father,  after  all,  that  I  connect 
my  memories  of  Mr.  Fields.  To  him  he  was  always 
faithful,  kind,  considerate,  and  attentive. 

"  Manchester-by-the-Sea  became  a  new  place  after  he 
made  it  his  summer  home.  The  sight  of  him  walking 
over  by  the  beach  or  the  pasture,  or  driving  up  the 
avenue  in  his  basket  phaeton,  was  an  assurance  of  enjoy 
ment,  an  enjoyment  with  this  characteristic,  —  that  it 
demanded  nothing  of  my  father.  It  all  came  from  the 
full,  the  overflowing  resources  of  the  guest,  so  cordial, 
so  affectionate,  so  encouraging  to  a  man  of  my  father's 
temperament  and  habits.  .  .  . 

"  Who  has  left  so  many  friends  to  mourn  him  ?  Who 
has  given  so  much  pleasure  to  his  friends  while  he  was 
with  them  ?  He  was  greatly  blessed  in  nature  and  tem 
per,  and  he  faithfully  made  the  utmost  of  his  gifts  for 
the  advantage  of  all  others." 

The  Governor  of  our  Commonwealth,  John  D. 
Long,  wrote  to  express  his  sense  of  public  as  well 
as  private  loss;  also,  the  President  of  Boston  Uni 
versity  ;  and  the  President  of  Cornell  University, 
then  our  minister  at  Berlin,  Andrew  D.  White. 
Mr.  White  says :  — 

"  My  memories  of  Mr.  Fields  are  among  my  cherished 
possessions.  During  my  early  professorial  days  he  was 


264  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

exceedingly  kind  to  me,  giving  himself  trouble  to  smooth 
my  path  at  home  and  abroad,  and  just  at  the  time  when 
such  kindness  was  most  valuable  to  me.  Without  ex 
aggeration,  most  of  the  greatest  social  enjoyments  I  have 
had  are  certainly  those  to  which  he  gave  me  access  in 
Boston,  Nahant,  London,  and  elsewhere. 

"  I  also  owe  him  deep  gratitude  for  daring,  in  the  old 
days  of  subserviency  to  the  slave  power,  to  publish  arti 
cles  which  other  editors  dared  not  touch.  .  .  .  Winning 
and  devoted  as  Fields  was,  it  was  not  that  which  bound 
me  to  him  most.  I  always  found  in  him  a  real  noble 
ness  of  heart,  a  deep  wish  to  help  on  whatever  of  good 
or  true  he  found  militant  in  the  world.  Let  any  appeal 
to  his  deeper  feelings  come,  and  all  that  wonderful  play 
fulness  upon  the  surface  disappeared  in  a  moment." 

The  Boston  booksellers  and  publishers  gave  a 
united  and  heartfelt  tribute  to  his  memory,  and 
Mr.  James  R.  Osgood  wrote  privately :  — 

"  In  view  of  my  long  and  invariably  pleasant  associa 
tion  with  Mr.  Fields,  I  cannot  forbear  telling  you  how 
grateful  a  sense  I  have  of  my  many  obligations  to  him, 
and  how  tender  a  place  he  will  always  hold  in  my 
memory." 

Mr.  Alden,  editor  of  "  Harper's  Monthly  Maga 
zine/'  wrote  :  — 

"  The  Messrs.  Harper  desire  me  to  express  their  sense 
of  the  great  loss  sustained  by  American  literature  in  the 
departure  of  one  who,  as  author  and  publisher,  contrib 
uted  so  much  to  its  excellence,  and  to  its  good  repute  at 
home  and  abroad." 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  265 

Also,  in  expressing  his  own  feeling  of  personal 
loss,  Mr.  Alden  writes :  — 

"Into  the  darkest  hour  of  my  life  he  came  giving  light 
and  hope.  I  can  never  forget  it.  Turning  to  him  first 
because  I  found  help  in  him  — how  much  else  I  found  I 
Only  those  who  knew  him  nearly  knew  his  goodness  and 
his  greatness." 

Robert  Collyer  wrote  :  — 

"He  was  the  dearest  friend  I  had  on  earth  outside  my 
home.  ...  I  have  been  thinking  of  the  great  host  of  men 
and  women  to  whom  he  was  as  sunshine  and  as  all  that 
is  most  welcome  in  our  human  life.  ...  We  are  all  rich 
through   the   treasure   he  gave   us  out  of  his  heart,  the 
great,  gentle,  sunny  heart  which  was  so  true.     The  work 
he  has  done  in  this  world  is  quite  unique  and  all  good. 
We  cannot  say  better   of  it  than  time  will  say.     Just 
such  a  man  was  needed,  and  needed  just  where  he  was 
and  when  he  came.     God's  blessing  be  forever  on  him 
for  his  work's  sake." 

George  Macdonald  said,  writing  from  Casa  Co- 
raggio,  Italy:  — 

"  He  was  so  good  to  me  and  mine  that  from  afar  I 
can  understand  something  of  his  loss.  ...  I  know,  I 
will  not  say  knew,  and  love,  I  will  not  say  loved  him."' 

Mrs.  H.  P.  Spofford  wrote  : 

"  His  nature  was  like  heaven's  sunbeams,  — a  satisfac 
tion  and  a  delight.  I  loved  him  with  a  grateful  heart, 
for  he  was  a  part  of  happy  youth  to  me,  a  bright  im- 


266  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

mortal  shape  in  my  memory  of  those  days  of  his  exceed 
ing  kindness,  whose  going  never  seemed  possible." 

Mr.  Howells  wrote  :  — 

"  Perhaps  I  have  never  told  you,  and  may  fitly  tell 
you  here  now,  how  affectionately  and  with  what  unal 
loyed  gratitude  I  have  constantly  remembered  my  con 
nection  with  him.  A  look  or  word  of  depreciation  from 
him  would  have  made  me  very  unhappy,  in  the  place  I 
held  under  him  ;  but  in  all  the  years  I  was  with  him,  I 
had  nothing  but  delicate  kindness  from  him  —  forbear 
ance  where  I  failed,  and  generous  praise  where  he 
thought  I  succeeded  in  my  work.  ...  I  shall  cherish 
the  recollection  of  the  little  half  hour  he  spent  with  me 
in  the  reception  room,  that  night,  before  he  felt  able  to 
go  up-stairs.  .  .  .  He  would  not  let  me  feel  heavy  or 
sad  about  him.  He  was  still  as  he  always  has  been,  — 
the  genius  of  cheerful  hospitality.  There  is  no  one  left 
like  him  !  " 

Mr.  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  says :  — 

"  I  shall  always  feel  that  I  was  under  great  obligations 
to  him  at  a  most  important  time  in  my  life.  He  was 
the  best  and  most  sympathetic  literary  counselor  I  ever 
had;  and  I  had  much  opportunity  to  observe  his  con 
stant  kindnesses  to  others." 

Rev.  M.  D.  Conway  wrote  from  London :  — 

"  But  a  few  evenings  ago  Julian  Hawthorne  was  here, 
and  in  speaking  of  Mr.  Fields  said,  4  whom  my  father  so 
much  loved.'  I  had  just  received,  also,  a  note  from  Mrs. 
Procter,  in  which  she  spoke  of  your  husband  among  her 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  267 

American  friends.  I,  too,  have  been  proud  to  call  my 
self  his  friend,  and  of  what  literary  contemporary  of  his 
was  he  not  the  best  and  faithfullest  friend." 

Mr.  Whipple  wrote  privately  :  — 

"  I  love  him  very  deeply  now,  as  I  loved  him  when  I 
was  a  lad  of  nineteen." 

Joaquin  Miller  wrote  :  — 

"  While  many  stood  nearer  to  yon  and  yours,  few,  if 
any,  admired  or  looked  up  to  Mr.  Fields  more  earnestly 
than  I.  ...  How  much  better  he  left  this  world  than  he 
found  it !  How  many  a  heart  was  made  lighter,  happier, 
each  year  of  his  manhood  all  men  know.  This  vast 
West  world  is  a  great  deal  better  and  wiser  because  he 
has  been.  Think  how  few  can  have  this  said  of  us  when 
all  is  over,  work  with  all  endeavor  as  we  may !  To  me 
Mr.  Fields's  life  seemed  the  most  rounded  and  perfect  of 
all  men's  I  ever  met.  Very  beautiful  he  seemed  to  me 
in  soul  and  body,  and  people  loved  him  truly.  How  I 
shall  always  remember  that  evening  in  Philadelphia  ;  the 
President,  the  Emperor,  the  strength,  and  the  beauty  of 
this  new  world ! " 

Mr.  Edward  Lear,  writing  from  San  Remo,  Italy, 
said :  — 

"  I  used  to  think,  years  ago,  if  anything  could  prevail 
on  me  to  cross  to  America,  it  would  be  that  I  should 
there  see  James  T.  Fields." 

Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney  writes  :  — 

"  I  must,  for  myself,  always  remember  the  early  wel 
come  your  husband  gave  me  when  I  had  just  come  to 
bis  knowledge  as  a  new  worker  in  letters." 


268  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

And  Mrs.  Procter,  writing  from  London,  said :  — 

"  I  think  you  both  knew  how  great  a  regard  my  hus 
band  had  for  yours,— what  merry  days  they  had  to 
gether.  ...  I  was  this  morning  reading  his  paper, 
'  Leigh  Hunt  in  Elysium,'  where  he  speaks  of  my  dear 
Adelaide  —  so  kindly  —  as  he  always  did  of  all." 

It  will  be  seen  that  only  those  brief  passages 
have  been  selected  from  these  letters  which  bear 
testimony  to  the  character  we  have  been  consid 


ering;. 


Another  volume  would  be  required  to  contain 
the  words  of  sympathy  and  consolation,  expressed 
in  every  beautiful  form  the  human  heart  can  sug 
gest,  which  his  friends  poured  out.  The  following 
sonnet,  of  unusual  beauty  and  significance,  from 
Parke  Godwin,  must  not,  however,  be  omitted :  — 

"I  cannot  wish  thee  comfort  in  tins  hour 

Of  life's  supremest  sorrow;  for  I  know, 
By  aching  memories,  how  little  power 

The  best  words  have  to  mitigate  a  woe, 
With  which,  in  its  own  bitterness  alone, 

The  heart,  amid  the  silences,  must  deal. 
But  here,  where  ocean  makes  eternal  moan 

Along  its  melancholy  shores,  I  feel 
How  mightier  than  nature's  loudest  voice 

Is  that  soft  word,  which  to  the  ruler  said, 
Amidst  his  desolated  home,  '  Rejoice  ! 

Thy  dear  one  sleepeth:  think  not  he  is  dead:' 
All  death  is  birth,  from  out  a  turbid  night, 
Into  the  glories  of  transcendent  light." 


AND  PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  269 

In  the  month  of  May,  1879,  after  a  winter  of 
many  lectures,  Mr.  Fields  went  to  Wellesley  Col 
lege  one  evening  to  fulfill  an  engagement.  He 
was  to  reach  home  at  eleven  p.  M.,  and  a  cheerful 
supper  was  awaiting  his  arrival.  The  hour  for 
his  return  came  and  went,  when  a  telegram  was 
brought  summoning  me  to  his  side.  About  mid 
night  I  reached  the  college.  He  had  received 
every  possible  attention,  but  I  saw  that  a  violent 
hemorrhage  from  the  head  had  startled  every 
body.  He  was  very  weak,  a  little  incoherent,  and 
indisposed  to  sleep.  The  next  morning,  a  beau 
tiful  Sunday  morning,  with  the  consent  of  the 
physicians,  who  did  not  fear  relapse  from  such  an 
effort,  we  drove  home  to  Boston,  and  in  a  few 
days,  as  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough,  removed 
to  our  cottage  at  Manchester.  The  night  of  our 
arrival,  soon  after  midnight,  he  was  wakened  by  a 
return  of  the  hemorrhage.  All  ordinary  methods 
of  stopping  the  blood  were  ineffectual,  and  great 
loss  and  weakness  were  the  result.  Day  after  day 
the  hemorrhage  returned,  after  the  slightest  exer 
tion,  until  the  physicians  prescribed  entire  quiet 
and  forbade  him  to  be  moved.  During  the  month 
or  six  weeks  of  his  confinement  no  one  entered 
his  room,  except  the  physician  and  very  rarely  a 
servant. 

I  look   back  with   peculiar   pleasure   to  those 


270  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

days !  He  was  seldom  tired  of  being  read  to,  and 
during  the  long  hours  of  June,  from  morning  until 
dusk,  which  did  not  fall  early  on  that  beautiful 
hilltop,  I  read  to  him  things  old  and  new,  poetry, 
essays,  and  occasionally  a  story  of  Thackeray  or 
George  Eliot.  I  can  recall  one  morning  when  the 
pulse  of:  life  was  very  low,  how  the  music  and  sig 
nificance  of  Milton's  Allegro  and  Penseroso  seemed 
to  take  "  a  sober  coloring,"  and  to  swing  with 
slow  and  solemn  roar  through  the  chambers  of  the 
brain  as  it  never  had  done  before.  It  chimed  and 
rang  with  an  immortal  melody  through  a  mist  of 
tears.  And  so  the  days  wore  on,  and  called  him 
back  to  me  with  a  sense  of  divine  and  eternal 
nearness  we  never  had  before. 

Of  this  period  I  feel  as  Maurice  de  Gue'rin  has 
said :  — 

"Apres  le  bonheur  de  mourir  avant  ceux  que  Ton 
aime  je  ne  connais  rien  qui  marque  plus  la  faveur  du 
ciel  que  d'etre  admis  au  chevet  d'un  ami  mourant,  de 
le  suivre  jusqu'  ou  Fon  peut  aller  avec  lui  dans  1'ombre 
de  la  mort.  de  s'initier  a  moiti£  au  mystere  profond  dans 
lequel  il  disparait,  de  lever  sur  son  visage  des  empreintes 
fideles  et  incorruptibles,  de  se  former  en  fin  un  tr£sor  de 
douleura  et  de  pense*es  secretes,  qui  puisse  fournir  u, 
Fe'tendre  de  la  plus  longue  vie." 

The  autumn  found  Mr.  Fields  restored,  but  in 
a  delicate  condition,  which  no  one  outside  of  his 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  271 

home  could  understand.  He  looked  in  perfect 
health,  but  his  nerves  could  no  longer  bear  any 
strain ;  therefore  it  was  not  a  surprise  when,  in 
the  midst  of  his  Boston  lectures  in  1880,  he  was 
again  attacked  with  the  old  trouble.  This  time  it 
was  less  alarming ;  partly  because  no  painful  meas 
ures  were  taken  to  stop  the  bleeding,  and  partly 
because  we  were  assured  that  more  dangerous 
trouble  was  thus  averted.  Again,  in  the  spring, 
he  returned  to  his  beloved  home  at  Manchester. 
"  I  like  to  think,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  paid  for 
everything  about  this  place  by  my  lectures."  He 
here  passed  his  longest,  and  I  believe  one  of  the 
happiest  summers  of  his  life,  though  he  suffered 
from  attacks  of  pain  in  the  chest  if  he  took  any 
exercise  more  severe  than  walking  on  level  ground. 
For  five  or  six  years  he  had  found  himself  subject 
to  this  pain  at  times  after  climbing  or  walking  in 
the  wind,  and  used  to  complain  occasionally  of 
feeling  as  if  his  voice  were  "  cut  off "  when  he 
was  lecturing. 

In  the  autumn  and  winter  of  1880-1881,  Mr. 
Fields  continued  to  speak  in  Boston  and  vicinity 
as  usual.  His  lectures  in  town  were  more  crowded 
than  ever,  and  as  they  drew  near  the  close  an 
appeal  was  made  to  him  to  repeat  them.  The 
temptation  was  great,  it  was  an  agreeable  occupa 
tion  for  him,  and  required  less  strength  than  many 


272  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

other  things,  but  he  was  easily  dissuaded  from  it, 
and  the  wisdom  of  the  advice  appeared,  alas,  only 
too  soon !     One  night  of  January,  after  a  cold  day 
and  some  little  exertion,  he  was  awakened  by  1 
terrible  pain  well  known  to  physicians  as  Angffl 
Pectoris,  or  the  Breast  Pang,  and  at  intervals  until 
the  final  attack,  nearly  four  months  later,  he  wai 
subject  to  this  suffering. 

Again  great  quiet  was  prescribed,  and 

all  these  months  he  saw  very  few  persons. 

moment  he  could  get  any  respite  from  suffering 

he  liked  to  have  me  read  to  him.     It  could  not  b 

said  of  him,  — 

He  had  "  no  minutes  breathing  space  allowed, 
To  nurse  his  dwindling  faculty  of  joy," 

for  this  power  grew  day  by  day  to  the  very  end 
Old  favorites  were  the  books  he  chiefly  desired. 
Charles  Lamb  was  re-read  with  undiminished  de 
light,  and  «  Southey's  Life  of  Nelson,"  and  in  his 
restless  uncomfortable  moments,  or  when  I  was 
called  away,  he  would  amuse  himself  with  «  Mark 
Twain  in  Switzerland  and  Germany."     Montaigne 
was  one  of  his  prime  favorites,  and  we  re-read 
nearly  the  whole  of  it.     Indeed,  to  recount  that 
readino-,  would  be  to  enumerate  a  small  library, 
for    he   slept  very  little,  seldom  or  never  fairly 
lyino-  down  again  upon  his  bed,  and  the  long  hours 
were*  conjured  out  of  something  of  their  suffering 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  273 

by  these  beloved  companions.  "  Carlyle's  Remi 
niscences"  was  one  of  the  latest  books  we  read 
together,  and  Forster's  "  Life  of  Dickens  "  was  the 
last  book  he  laid  down.  "  It  does  not  require  any 
effort,  and  I  love  to  recall  him/'  he  said  to  me. 

Sunday  evening,  April  24,  1881,  a  little  excite 
ment  in  the  street  caused  another  severe  attack  of 
pain,  from  which  he  recovered  only  to  fall  into 
the  eternal  sleep.  His  face  wore  unchanged  the 
calm  expression  native  to  it  in  those  later  days. 

His  body  lies  at  Mount  Auburn,  "  the  sepulchre, 
oh,  not  of  him,  but  of  our  joy  !  " 

Yet  as  a  traveler  on  some  forsaken  road  sees 
the  light  of  the  city  whither  he  is  bound  glimmer 
before  him  on  the  distant  hillside,  so  the  light  of 
vanished  eyes  "  beacons  from  the  abode  where  the 
eternal  are." 


It  is  written  in  the  Holy  "Word  : 

"At  evening  time  there  shall  be  light" 


18 


274  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 


AUF   WIEDERSEHEN. 

HENRY  W.    LONGFELLOW   IN   MEMORY  OF   JAMES   T.   FIELDS. 

UNTIL  we  meet  again  !     That  is  the  meaning 
Of  the  familiar  words,  that  men  repeat 

At  parting  in  the  street. 

Ah  yes,  till  then  !  but  when  death  intervening 
Rends  us  asunder,  with  what  ceaseless  pain 

We  wait  for  thee  again  ! 

The  friends  who  leave  us  do  not  feel  the  sorrow 
Of  parting,  as  we  feel  it,  who  must  stay 

Lamenting  day  by  day, 

And  knowing,  when  we  wake  upon  the  morrow, 
We  shall  not  find  in  its  accustomed  place 

The  one  beloved  face. 

It  were  a  double  grief,  if  the  departed, 
Being  released  from  earth,  should  still  retain 

A  sense  of  earthly  pain  ; 
It  were  a  double  grief,  if  the  true-hearted, 
Who  loved  us  here,  should  on  the  farther  shore 

Remember  us  no  more. 

Believing,  in  the  midst  of  our  afflictions, 
That  death  is  a  beginning,  not  an  end, 

We  cry  to  them,  and  send 

Farewells,  that  better  might  be  called  predictions, 
Being  foreshadowings  of  the  future,  thrown 

Into  the  vast  Unknown. 


AND  PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  275 

Faith  overleaps  the  confines  of  our  reason, 
And  if  by  faith,  as  in  old  times  was  said, 

Women  received  their  dead 
Raised  up  to  life,  then  only  for  a  season 
Our  partings  are,  nor  shall  we  wait  in  vain 

Until  we  meet  again  ! 


14  DAY  USE 

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